


Power of Love

by Magicofisis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Erotica, M/M, Romance, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-25
Updated: 2005-11-24
Packaged: 2018-10-27 18:12:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 75,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magicofisis/pseuds/Magicofisis
Summary: In a mixed-up world where friends become lovers and lovers are only friends, who can you count on to protect you from the darkest wizard of them all? Set in seventh year, Ron proves that everyone has a role in the final battle with Voldemort.





	1. A SURPRISING DISCOVERY

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Ron Weasley awoke with a start and sat bolt upright in bed.  He wasn’t sure if he’d heard something or if he had been dreaming.  He stuck his head out from the curtains of his four-poster and he looked at his clock: 4:30 a.m.  Bloody hell - as awake as he was now, he was sure he’d never get back to sleep.  And it was Saturday, too.  Out of habit, he listened for Harry’s breathing.  Silence.  His instinct told him to investigate.  Slipping silently out of his bed, Ron peered into Harry’s empty one where the blankets were pulled back. Ron ran his hand over the smooth cold sheets; they had not been slept in for several hours.  Ron remembered hearing Harry thrashing about in his sleep until all hours of the night, and he knew Harry had been preoccupied about something.  He supposed Harry had been unable to sleep and had gone out for a midnight stroll.  Ron crept over to Harry’s trunk and reached deep into the corner, blindly searching for the silky smooth fabric that usually rested there.  Sure enough, the Invisibility Cloak was missing. 

 

Quietly crossing the dark room, his bare feet ice cold from the stone floor, Ron stole down the staircase to the common room.  There was no sign of Harry.  “Harry,” he called in a loud whisper, “are you in here?”  There was no answer.  Ron started to get worried.  Harry had disappeared in the middle of the night a few times this year, but he’d told Ron he had never been gone longer than an hour, and he had certainly never failed to return to his bed before the others woke up.  Ron climbed the stairs back up to the dormitory and looked out the window as he passed it.  The light of the full moon reflected off a heavy frost blanketing the ground, which was not uncommon for November.  He was about to return to his bed when he noticed footprints in the frost leading toward the lake.

 

Ron debated with himself for a few minutes, trying to decide whether or not to go after Harry.  He was sure the footprints were Harry’s – no other marks could be seen in the frost, and there was not a second set returning to the castle.  Harry probably just wanted to be alone.  But Ron was wide awake now, and he figured Harry had been alone long enough that he might like some company.  Besides, what if something _had_ happened to him?  Ron dressed silently and headed downstairs again, carrying his shoes and grabbing his wand and a heavy cloak on the way.  He put on his shoes in the common room, wrapped the cloak around himself and headed through the portrait hole.  Though now in his seventh year, Ron had never before walked through the castle at this hour of the day.  Except for a quick glimpse of some house-elves, he saw no one and slipped out of the castle quite unseen.

 

The rush of the cold November wind took his breath away as he headed toward the lake.  He wondered how Harry could stand being out here in the cold for more than a few minutes.  Ron quickly found the set of footprints he’d seen from the dormitory and began to follow them.  He started jogging to keep warm, and soon discovered that the footprints led to the walking path around the lake.  Ron hoped Harry hadn’t decided to walk all the way around, as that would mean at least half an hour before he’d be inside again.  

 

Ron’s foot caught on something as he rounded a bend in the path.  He went flying face first onto the frosty grass.  A loud stream of obscenities escaped from his mouth.  Ron angrily got back to his feet, wiping the remnants of frost from his face and hair.  As he examined his hands for injuries, he suddenly noticed that the footprints he’d been following had stopped.  Returning to the spot where he tripped, he saw what was unmistakably Harry’s hand laying on the footpath.

 

Ron quickly knelt down next to the hand and felt for the rest of Harry’s body.  He gasped as he removed the cloak from Harry’s face.  Harry was unconscious, glasses askew, and deathly white.  Ron reached down to touch his face and was shocked to find that his pale skin was freezing to the touch.  He found a pulse, but it was weak.

 

“Harry?” Ron said, shaking him gently.  “Harry, can you hear me?”  Harry didn’t respond.  

 

Ron was starting to panic now.  He looked around to see where he was: easily half a mile from Hagrid’s, and even further from the castle.  Ron tried to pick up Harry, but he was dead weight.  

 

“I’ll never be able to carry you all the way back!” Ron moaned to Harry, who could not hear him.  In desperation, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at Harry.  “ _Ennervate_.”  Nothing happened.  Well, at least it probably wasn’t a hex that got him.  He tried again.  “ _Mobilicorpus_.”  Harry’s hand moved a bit, but nothing else did.  He really hadn’t expected that to work anyway, since they weren’t to be studying it until after the Christmas holidays.  

 

Ron quickly removed his cloak and wrapped it around Harry as best he could.  He leaned down close to Harry’s ear, resting his warm cheek against Harry’s frosty one and whispered, “I’m going for help, Harry.”  Then he started running.

 

 

Ron pounded on Hagrid’s front door with one hand while clutching the stitch in his side with his other.  Inside he could hear Fang barking and footsteps moving slowly across the floor.  “Hagrid, it’s me, Ron!” he yelled, as loudly as he could.

 

Hagrid looked as if he’d been woken from a deep sleep, which, of course, he had been.  His feet were bare, and his hair was a more tangled mess than usual.  He seemed quite surprised to see Ron standing in his doorway, bent over double with no cloak on.  With one great hand, he swiftly pulled Ron inside the hut.

 

“It’s Harry!  He’s unconscious on the path by the lake, and I can’t carry him!  Hagrid, you have to help him, quick!”

 

“Lemme get my boots, hol’ on,” replied Hagrid, as he spun around to dress.  Ron had barely caught his breath before Hagrid was ready.

 

Ron set out at a full run, Hagrid effortlessly keeping up with him by walking at a brisk pace.  When they reached the place where Harry lay, Hagrid picked him up easily as though he were a rag doll and they headed back to his hut.

 

“Crikey, Ron, he’s cold as ice!” Hagrid fretted as he settled Harry to a huge stuffed armchair by the fire.  “Light the fire, would yeh?  An’ put the kettle on.”

 

Ron lit a fire in the grate with his wand and moved the kettle over it.  He anxiously looked over at Harry in the chair, where Hagrid was tucking a large quilt around him.  Ron warmed his hands by the fire, then walked over to Harry and rested one palm on either side of his face.  Harry flinched at his warm touch, but didn’t wake.  A minute or two passed, with Hagrid and Ron exchanging nervous glances, before Harry’s eyes opened.

 

“Ron,” he whispered, “I’m so cold.”

 

“You must have been outside for hours, Harry.  You’re lucky I found you.  Do you think you can drink some tea?”

 

Harry nodded, but when he tried to move his arm to take the mug, it was shaking so badly that Ron wouldn’t give it to him.  “Here, I’ll hold it.  You drink.”  Ron held the mug to Harry’s mouth, but it was so hot against his frozen lips that it nearly scalded them.

 

“It’s too hot.  Wait a minute.” Ron set the mug down and watched as Harry’s shivers took control of his body.  He looked like he was having an epileptic seizure.

 

“Blimey, this is no good,” said Hagrid.  “I’m going up to the castle teh get Madam Pomfrey.  Ron, you stay here and see if you can get some tea into him.”  Hagrid turned on his heel and strode out the door.

 

Ron looked anxiously at Harry, wanting to help but feeling helpless.  “I wish I could remember that spell of Hermione’s that warms you up,” he said glumly.

 

“Ron,” Harry asked weakly, “what if you sat here under these blankets and shared some of your body heat with me?”

 

“Harry!” exclaimed Ron with a grin.  “What kind of a boy do you think I am?”  He lifted the covers and climbed into the huge chair next to Harry, who was still ice cold to the touch.  Ron wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close.  “Is it okay if I do this?  I mean, you really are freezing.”

 

“Yes, please.”  

 

The two of them sat there silently, snuggling under the blankets in Hagrid’s huge armchair for ten or fifteen minutes.  Ron was moving his hand absentmindedly up and down Harry’s arm to try to create more heat by friction.  As he did this, half of his brain was thinking “this is nice,” while the other half was reminding him “Harry is a boy.”  Harry seemed to be dozing, but his face was now blotchy red and sported a contented smile.

 

Ron started as the latch on the door opened and Hagrid entered with Madam Pomfrey.  Ron looked down at Harry, whose eyes were still closed.  Hagrid’s face broke into a huge grin when he saw Harry’s head resting against Ron’s shoulder with Ron’s arm holding him close.

 

“I...er...Harry asked me to try to warm him up a bit,” Ron offered by way of explanation.  His ears flushed a deep red.

 

Madam Pomfrey smiled.  “Good thinking, Mr. Weasley.  I would have suggested that myself.  Is Mr. Potter awake?”

 

“Yes,” replied Harry.  But as he opened his mouth to speak, his teeth started chattering uncontrollably.

 

Madam Pomfrey gave him three potions.  One was Pepper-Up Potion – Ron could recognize the smell – that caused steam to pour from Harry’s ears.  Another potion was to improve circulation and the last was to repair frostbite.  “Hagrid, may he stay here for another hour or two?  I’d hate to move him before the potions have a chance to work properly.”

 

“He can stay all day if he likes,” replied Hagrid.  He showed Madam Pomfrey to the door, and Ron heard her give instructions for Harry to report to the hospital wing as soon as he returned to the castle.

 

Within several minutes, Ron noticed that the steam had stopped coming out of Harry’s ears, his constant shivering had finally ceased, and his skin was getting some color back.  Ron no longer had his arms around Harry but was still next to him in the chair holding one of Harry’s hands between the two of his, trying to warm it up.  Truth be told, Ron was enjoying the caretaker role, and had nothing more than fleeting discomfort at the idea of being overly familiar with his best mate.  It was hard to believe that the boy sitting next to him, looking so vulnerable and frail, was the same boy who had bested Lord Voldemort on five different occasions.

 

Half an hour passed, and Harry could finally hold his tea without spilling it.  As he drank, he told Ron and Hagrid what had happened.

 

“I had a terrible nightmare, and woke up with my head throbbing.  So I decided I’d go for a little walk to clear my head and wandered down to the lake without realizing where I was going.  I was headed back to the castle when I swear I felt Dementors swarming.  I panicked and looked around, but even though it felt like hundreds, I didn’t see any.   But the feeling got worse and, well, I fainted.”  Harry looked at them sheepishly, and then closed his eyes again.

 

“But Harry, there couldn’t ha’ been any Dementors at Hogwarts,” replied Hagrid.  “After the Ministry lost control of ’em, Dumbledore put up additional protections all around the school to keep ’em out.  Haven’t been any ’round here since.”

 

“The only other thing I can think of,” said Harry, “is that perhaps Voldemort was surrounded by Dementors and I could feel it through my scar.”  He looked anxiously at Ron and Hagrid, who were wincing at Harry’s refusal to say “You-Know-Who.”

 

“If that’s the case, then you should say something to Dumbledore straight away,” said Ron.  “He’s known the Dementors have joined up with You-Know-Who for more than a year.  He’ll want you to tell him.”

 

“I’m heading to see him in a little while,” said Hagrid.  “I’ll let him know you’d like a word.”

 

Harry looked at them miserably.  The only thing he wanted to do less than get out of Hagrid’s comfortable armchair was to speak to Dumbledore about Voldemort and Dementors.  “I suppose you’re right,” he sighed.

 

An hour after taking the potions, Harry was getting restless.  He was starting to feel hungry, which they thought was a good sign.  Hagrid wrapped Harry up in Ron’s cloak and they all headed up to the castle.  There were only a few people eating breakfast, so they filled their plates quickly and Harry and Ron sat down next to Neville, who was alone at the Gryffindor table reading the _Daily Prophet_.

 

“You all right, Harry?” asked Neville.  “You’re so pale, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

 

Harry glanced at Ron, who kept his mouth shut for once, and answered, “I’ll be okay.  I just, er, fell asleep outside and nearly froze to death.  A bit stupid, really.”

 

If Neville thought it odd that Harry had been sleeping outside, he didn’t show it.  “That’s too bad,” said Neville, “especially with the Slytherin match coming up.  Will you still be able to play?”

 

Ron looked at his watch in a panic.  Harry had called a Quidditch practice to start in ten minutes.  If he left now, he’d only be a couple of minutes late.  “Harry, I forgot all about the early practice time for today.  Do you think…er, what do you want us to do…?  Should we practice without you?” 

 

“Yeah, you can lead it, Ron.  Heaven knows we need the training,” Harry grinned.  “I’ll ask Madam Pomfrey if I can play, but somehow I doubt she’ll let me.  See if Evans wants to play Seeker today.”

 

Ron turned to Neville.  “Would you mind going with Harry to the hospital wing, Neville?  I’m still not convinced he should be wandering around alone.  Who knows where he’ll fall asleep next time!”  

 

Underneath the table, Harry found Ron’s hand and gave it a squeeze.  “Thanks,” said Harry, but the intensity of his gaze said so much more.  _Thanks for saving my life.  Thanks for taking care of me.  Thanks for caring enough to come and find me._   Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder as he left, and he walked out of the Great Hall with a lump in his throat.

 

* * * * *

 

Except for a few hours during Quidditch practice on Saturday, Ron spent the next three days as Harry’s constant companion, and was never more than a few steps away from Harry at any time.  When Harry went to talk to Dumbledore, Ron waited for him at the bottom of the moving staircase.  Ron sat next to him at every meal, and sat at the same table when they studied.  None of this was strange to a casual observer, as Ron and Harry had been inseparable for more than six years, but Hermione couldn’t hold her tongue any longer after Ron spread marmalade on a piece of toast and handed it to Harry at breakfast Tuesday morning.

 

“Ron,” she said pointedly, “when are you going to stop acting like a mother hen and let Harry take care of himself?  You’re practically smothering him.”

 

Ron glared at her with a hurt expression.  “Just trying to be nice.”  He turned to Harry.  “Am I smothering you?”

 

“A little,” Harry answered truthfully, a grin creeping onto his face.  “I don’t mind, though.  It’s better being smothered than having you not speaking to me.”

 

“Okay, I get the hint.  I’ll back off.  It’s just that…well…you could have _died_.  And if it hadn’t been for the fact that I woke up when I did, we might still be looking for you.  I’m sorry, but that disturbs me.  Excuse me for caring,” huffed Ron. 

 

“Don’t listen to Hermione,” smiled Harry.  “Anyway, this way I don’t have to fix my own toast.”  Ron turned red, but noticed that Harry put his hand on Ron’s forearm as he spoke, and it had lingered there just a moment longer than it should have.

 

* * * * *

 

After breakfast, they all had Transfiguration.  Hermione and Harry sat in front to the right of McGonagall’s desk, while Ron, who was partnered with Susan Bones, sat in the middle of the room.  Ron had taken a peculiar liking to Susan, primarily because she always laughed at his jokes, even the bad ones.  They were five minutes into their practice time for Conjuring spells, when Susan leaned over to Ron and said, “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

 

“What are you talking about?” Ron answered, looking up from his notes.

 

“You haven’t been able to keep your eyes off Hermione Granger.  I’d be surprised if you heard a single thing Professor McGonagall told us.”

 

“I was listening.  And I haven’t been looking at Hermione.”  Ron was about to say who he _had_ been looking at, but thought better of it.  “Okay, so maybe a little.  But I don’t ‘have it bad’ for her.  I know her too well for that.”

 

“Whatever you say.  I just remember how it was when I thought I was in love with Harry Potter last year.  I couldn’t eat or sleep, and I would look at him dreamily from across the Great Hall, just like you were looking at Hermione.  But then he told me he wasn’t interested, so I got over it.”  Susan conjured a handkerchief and pretended to dry her eyes.

 

“Hey Susan,” blurted out Ron, “if you don’t mind my asking, what is it about Harry that makes girls fall all over him?  Is it just because he’s famous, or is it something else about him?” 

 

Susan pondered this for a moment, while Ron, concentrating very hard, conjured a quill.  “I guess,” she said, “that certain types of girls would only like him because he’s famous.  Personally, I really admired his courage to risk leading the D.A. in our fifth year.  He’s very nice and you can tell he cares about people.  He’s always willing to help other people out.  Plus, he’s _so_ cute.”

 

Ron and Susan both turned to look at Harry who caught them staring and grinned back.  Ron’s thoughts started racing. _God, she’s right.  He is cute. And I have been staring at him a lot. Well, maybe not dreamily.  Weasley, what’s the matter with you?  If you’re going to fall for one of your best friends, it should be Hermione!_  

 

* * * * *

 

With his newfound awareness of Harry, Ron suddenly noticed that Harry seemed to be seeking him out too.  He caught Harry staring at him three times in Charms while he was supposed to be copying notes from the board.  At Quidditch practice, Harry was nearly hit by a Bludger while he was watching Ron loop the goal posts instead of paying attention to the rest of the game.  

 

In fact, Ron found Harry’s lack of concentration to be very disconcerting.  Harry, who had the ability to focus on Quidditch with the intensity of a laser beam, had to call in the rest of the team to help find the Snitch so they could go in to dinner.  His concentration wasn’t any better as they sat in the library researching Shielding Charms.  Harry kept getting up and walking around the perimeter of the library, as if the task of sitting still was too much to bear.

 

“What’s the matter with you?” asked Ron, when Harry returned to their table.  “You’re pacing around like a caged animal.  Are you nervous about the match on Saturday?”

 

Harry glared at Ron as if he were surprised that Ron couldn’t see some obvious problem.  “No.  I’ve heard they’re playing the all-thug team again this year.  I’ve got Malfoy figured out now.  That’s why we’re practicing defensive moves.”

 

“What is it then?” Ron asked again, anxiously.  

 

“It’s…” Harry looked up and saw Hermione bounding toward them with a wide grin on her face.  “I’ll tell you later,” he said.  Harry turned to Hermione.  “You look happy.”

 

“You’ll never guess what I’ve just found out.  Apparently Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were planning to break into the broom shed and tamper with the Gryffindor brooms. But Professor McGonagall heard them talking about it, so now they have detention for the whole night tomorrow.”  Looking quite pleased, she pulled out some parchment and her Arithmancy text and started feverishly copying down numbers and symbols.

 

Harry seemed to be able to settle down after that.  Whether it was glee at hearing Malfoy’s latest plans for revenge were foiled or Hermione’s studious influence, he was able to complete his assignment by the time the library closed for the evening.   When they returned to the common room, Hermione disappeared up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory, leaving Ron and Harry behind with a handful of other students.

 

“What were you going to tell me in the library?” asked Ron at once.  

 

Harry blushed crimson.  “I don’t really feel like talking about it tonight.  It’s not that important – it can wait.”  He looked at Ron with his piercing green eyes – eyes that seemed to want to tell him something that his mouth couldn’t say.  Ron was slightly perturbed that Harry wouldn’t confide in him, but he had learned from years of experience that eventually Harry would talk. He always did.

 

“Are you going to bed?” asked Ron.

 

“No.  I can already tell I won’t be able to fall asleep yet.”  Harry flopped onto the couch nearest to the fire.  Ron set his books down and sat down next to him.  Ron knew he’d sat a little too close – their shoulders were touching and he could hear Harry’s breathing speed up.  He just couldn’t bear the thought of going upstairs without Harry.  They sat there watching the fire, saying very little and both very aware that there were things between them that needed to be said.

 

* * * * *

 

By the time Saturday came around, the student body was worked up to its usual fever pitch over the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match.  Malfoy was still livid over receiving detention for their unsuccessful plot to sabotage the game, and the Gryffindors were quite smug about having had an extra day to practice that week.

 

At a quarter past ten, Ron, Harry and Ginny headed down to the changing rooms to prepare for the match.  Harry had carefully crafted a finesse strategy that he believed would take advantage of Slytherin’s lack of mental prowess.  He figured that Malfoy would have some new dirty tricks up his sleeve, and had done his best to anticipate the possibilities and prepare his teammates to deal with them.  He just hoped Sloper would be able to stay on his broom this year.

 

Ron was nervous, but confident.  He had worked tirelessly over the previous two summers to improve his Keeping, and had played a phenomenal season last year, once he was out of the shadow of his brothers.  Ginny had practiced with him, and now had astounding accuracy once she was close enough to take a shot at the hoops.  They really felt like they had the upper hand in today’s match.

 

Eleven o’clock approached, and Harry gave a short but inspirational pep talk.  “You all know what we’re capable of,” he said, “if we stick to our game plan and focus on defense.  Slytherin will play dirty – they always do – and it’s everyone’s responsibility to make sure they don’t get seriously hurt.  Watch for Crabbe and Goyle to hit Bludgers directly at you after time has been called. The weather is on our side today – clear and not too windy.  I’ll handle Malfoy and get the Snitch, but I need you to keep us in the game.  You all know we’re good enough to beat this pathetic lot.  Let’s go out and do it!”

 

The cheering noise from the crowd was deafening as the Gryffindor team walked out on the field.  The Slytherin team had also just entered the stadium, and Ron watched them as both captains approached the middle of the pitch to where Madam Hooch was waiting.  Malfoy was dwarfed next to his cohorts; he led his entourage as if he were a little prince holding court.  Malfoy and Harry were viewing each other with the utmost disdain.  They shook hands only briefly, neither boy removing his gaze from the other, as if the observation of the obligatory protocol was a little more than either could stand.  Then the whistle blew and fourteen brooms rose rapidly to their places, waiting for release of the Quaffle.  The match was on.

 

Ron became all too aware of Malfoy’s latest strategy within the first few minutes of the match.  He had obviously decided that Crabbe and Goyle should focus on sending Ron to the hospital wing.  Bludgers were flying at him from all directions – any time they thought they could get away with it.  Fortunately, Harry had planned for this possibility, and Ron was grateful for the hours he had spent practicing his dodging and other defensive moves.  Twenty minutes into the game he had managed to stop all but one score, and had nothing more than a bruise on one leg where he’d been unable to avoid both Bludgers at once.

 

Malfoy’s strategy for Harry was to stick close and cut him off whenever possible.  This had the effect of annoying Harry greatly, especially when Malfoy had no qualms about plowing into him at full speed in an attempt to knock him off his broom.  After the third time it happened, Harry flew away at full speed, but he found he couldn’t see well enough to find the Snitch when he was going that fast.  As soon as he slowed down, Malfoy was all over him again like a bad suit.

 

By stationing Crabbe and Goyle near Ron, the Gryffindor Chasers had a relatively easy time scoring when they had possession in the Slytherin end.  Fifty minutes into the match, neither Harry nor Malfoy had seen any sign of the Snitch, Gryffindor was leading 90-40, and Ron took a Bludger to the stomach that knocked the wind out of him.  Harry quickly called time-out.

 

Once Ron was able to speak, he gasped, “You’d bloody well better catch the Snitch soon, Harry, or those goons are going to kill me!”  Harry was sympathetic and started thinking fast.

 

Harry pulled the team together in a huddle.  “Okay, then.  Change of tactics.  Kirke, you hang back and see if you can give Ron some protection against those Bludgers.  Sloper, you continue to play your normal position.  Natalie, I want you to let the other two worry about scoring. You focus on tailing Malfoy and cutting him off whenever you can.  I don’t care what you do as long as you help put some distance between him and me.  I think he’s trying to drag the game out as long as it takes to incapacitate Ron, and I need him out of my way so I can find the Snitch.”  As Madam Hooch approached them to call time, he asked,  “Any questions?” They shook their heads and prepared to mount their brooms.

 

When play was resumed, it appeared the Malfoy had chastised his team for not being aggressive enough, because they continued the same strategy but with much more speed and force.  He hadn’t counted on Harry pulling one of his Chasers to block him, though, and the tactic seemed to infuriate him.  Malfoy rammed Natalie several times, just as he had done to Harry, but she managed to stay on her broom and even got tangled up with him once or twice, which gave Harry a chance to search for the Snitch unencumbered.  

 

Kirke and Goyle went at each other, and each team was awarded a penalty shot.  Gryffindor’s was blocked, but Ron guessed wrong and Slytherin’s sailed through an unguarded hoop.  Enthusiastic cheers rose from the Slytherin stands, as they sensed their team on its way to making a comeback.  Suddenly, Harry saw a glittering flash near the Slytherin goal.  He tore after it, trying to maintain eye contact, but wary of Malfoy streaking towards it as well.  Harry urged his Firebolt onward, crouching low to the handle to move as fast as possible.  He could see that Malfoy and he would likely reach it at the same time.  He willed his broom faster, and as he closed in he sat up…reached out his hand…and captured the Golden Snitch.  Once again, Gryffindor had prevailed over Slytherin!

 

Harry wheeled his broom around to see where Malfoy had ended up.  He had been bracing himself for a collision, and was surprised by the easy catch.  He cast his eyes to the ground, where a blur of green robes was streaking towards a body lying there.  Harry maneuvered for a better look – it was Malfoy, lying on his side in a crumpled heap.  

 

Ginny Weasley was the first one to reach him, and they hugged as Harry still held the Snitch triumphantly in his hand.  “What happened to Malfoy?” Harry asked, as Sloper joined them next and then Natalie.

 

Ginny was ecstatic. “Malfoy was right behind you when Jack was trying to knock away a Bludger.  He missed, of course, but it tipped off the end of his club and caught Malfoy right in the back of the head.  He never saw it coming.”

 

The Gryffindor team descended in a mass of scarlet robes, and Harry noted with some disappointment that Malfoy was now sitting up and looked like he might be able to get back to the castle on his own power.  He consulted briefly with Madam Hooch over the legality of the move that felled Malfoy and she confirmed that there had been no penalties and the match was rightfully Gryffindor’s.   Harry and Ron finally found each other and embraced like brothers, each knowing exactly how much this win meant to the other.

 

The Creevey brothers raced back to the Gryffindor common room, having replaced the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan as the unofficial party boys the previous year.  Harry and Ron, meanwhile, were taking their time, basking in the glow of their victory and enjoying the adrenaline high that always accompanied a Quidditch victory, especially a victory over Slytherin.

 

By the time Ron and Harry got to the changing room, Kirke and Sloper were already done showering, and their post-game euphoria was wearing off.  They gave Sloper a hard time for failing to kill Malfoy with his poorly hit Bludger, and exchanged high fives for about the twentieth time.

 

Standing under the steady stream of hot water in the showers, Ron heard the outside door slam, and knew that he and Harry were now alone.  He stole a glance at Harry as he reached over to get the soap.  This was nuts – in all their years at Hogwarts, Ron had seen Harry in the shower dozens of times.  But this time, the image of Harry’s sleek muscular figure, shiny from the soapy water, was too much for Ron, and waves of desire shot right to his groin.  _Sweet Merlin, I can’t let him see this_ , thought Ron, mortified by his body’s betrayal of feelings he wanted desperately to deny.  As he tried to envision Snape in Neville’s gran’s hat, an image that had always worked well to quell his unwanted erections, he looked at Harry again and couldn’t help but notice he was having a similar problem controlling his body.  Ron finished showering as quickly as he could and sought the refuge of his towel.  A few minutes later, he heard Harry turn off the water but he did not join Ron, who was sitting on the long bench hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands.  Finally Ron heard wet footsteps come up behind him and Harry sat down next to him.

 

“I’m sorry, Ron,” he said with a deep sigh.  “I just can’t do this anymore.”

 

“Can’t do what?” asked Ron, not trusting himself to look up.

 

“I can’t keep pretending that there’s nothing going on between us.” Ron cast a startled glance at Harry, who was blushing and obviously very nervous.

 

Ron wasn’t sure what Harry was implying.  Was he uncomfortable because Ron had stepped over the invisible line between friendship and something more? “Harry, if I did something I shouldn’t…” he started. 

 

Harry reached over and turned Ron’s face toward his.  His hand lingered on Ron’s chin, and Ron could feel Harry’s fingers trembling slightly.  They stared into each other’s eyes, and Ron felt as if Harry was scanning his mind, trying to read his thoughts.  “Every time I look at you, I remember sitting with you in Hagrid’s armchair with your arms around me…” Harry’s words trailed off and he seemed afraid to voice something they both already knew.  

 

Ron wanted to shout out _‘Yes, I think about it all the time too,’_ but he still didn’t understand – still didn’t know – if Harry viewed this as a good thing or as some fluke that ought to be acknowledged and then pressed far back into the recesses of their brains as if it had never happened.  But now that they were here, sitting so close they could feel each other’s breath... how he longed to kiss those gorgeous lips! Throwing caution to the winds, Ron leaned forward and pressed his lips tentatively to Harry’s and was genuinely surprised when Harry kissed him back.  Ron’s stomach felt queasy, and every nerve in his body was pulsating.  They kissed again, more confidently this time, their eyes open and seeking each other’s reassurance that this was okay.  Ron, realizing he had forgotten to breathe, pulled away, panting.

 

“God, Harry, I…I,” stammered Ron, “I have no idea what the bloody hell I’m doing.”  He cast a sideways glance at Harry, whose glistening eyes and expression made him look like Christmas just came early.

 

“And you think I do?” Harry responded.  “Actually, I thought you were doing rather well.”

 

Ron smiled.  Harry noticed he was shaking slightly, and there were goose pimples all over Ron’s upper body.  “You’re shivering, Ron.  Are you cold?”

 

Ignoring Harry’s question, Ron tried in vain to express the emotions that were bombarding his brain.  He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and finally sputtered, “I just kissed you.  Twice.  And I liked it.”

 

“Third time lucky,” said Harry, and he pulled Ron close and devoured his lips once more, with a passion so intense it was like a freight train coursing through his body.  Ron’s senses were exploding – the texture of Harry’s tongue as it parted his lips and explored the recesses of his mouth, and his nostrils filled with the fresh scent of soap and the essence that was uniquely Harry.  A desire burned within Ron that he had never felt before.   His cock, which has been twitching with lust since Harry had sat down beside him, was now straining against the confines of his damp towel.  A low moan escaped from his throat quite of its own accord.  He was no longer in control.

 

And then it stopped.  Harry had pulled away this time but, unlike Ron, he seemed to be in total control and was seemingly completely rational.  If it weren’t for the fact that he was also sporting a telltale hard-on, Ron would have thought he was totally unaffected by his own passion.  Ron’s questioning gaze met Harry’s serious one, and he waited for an answer.

 

“They’ll be starting to wonder where we are by now.  If we don’t show up soon we’ll have some explaining to do.”  Harry walked over to his clothes and dropped his towel, giving Ron a view of the most beautiful eye candy he’d ever seen.  “Go on, then,” Harry continued, “and stop looking at me or you’ll never be able to walk.”

 

“Snape in a vulture hat,” Ron mumbled.

 

“Sorry?” asked Harry.

 

“I was thinking of Neville’s worst fear – Snape in his gran’s vulture hat.  It’s a trick I use whenever I need to, er, calm down,” said Ron, blushing slightly.  Ron got up from the bench and started to dress.

 

“Good one.”

 

They finished dressing in silence.  Ron had never been so confused or conflicted in his whole life.  Harry Potter was his best friend.  Harry Potter was the heartthrob of half of the girls at Hogwarts.  Harry Potter was a boy.  Harry Potter was exploring Ron’s mouth with his tongue and Ron never wanted him to stop.  And there was something else bothering him.  He picked up his things and found Harry waiting at the outside door for him.

 

“Tell me how you turn it on and off like that,” said Ron gruffly.

 

“What do you mean?” Harry said, as they started walking toward the castle.

 

“How do you go from being Casanova one minute to, er, Madam Pince the next?”

 

Harry snorted with laughter.  “Madam Pince?”  Ron didn’t seem to think it was funny.  “Oh, stop brooding, Ron.  I’ve been taking Occlumency for over a year.  I _am_ learning something, you know.  You have to clear your mind of all emotion before you can get it to work and I’ve been practicing a lot.”  They walked along for a bit in silence. “You’d do well to practice clearing away your emotions, Ron, or we’ll never be able to pull this off.  Plus, you’re a terrible liar, so don’t say anything to anyone.”

 

Ron was about to protest, but he thought better of it, remembering that Ginny told him all the time that he was a terrible liar.  How in the name of Merlin were they ever going to keep this a secret?

 

Just before they reached the clearing leading up to the castle steps, Harry suddenly grabbed Ron’s hand and pulled him into the shadow of a tree, which obscured their view of the castle windows.  He pressed Ron up against the tree and sandwiched him with his body.  It didn’t occur to Ron to protest.  “I can tell you’re having a hard time getting used to the idea of us…like this.   But don’t take too long to work it out, okay?  I think it’s brilliant, and I don’t want to waste any more time.”  As he spoke, Ron could feel Harry’s warm breath against his neck, his knees turning to jelly at Harry’s words.  They sealed their silent pact with a kiss.

 

 

 

The noise from the Quidditch celebration party was deafening.  Even Hermione took time off from her work to join the fun.  Dennis Creevey quickly swept Harry away to the other end of the common room, and soon he was surrounded by a group of adoring fourth and fifth-year girls.  Ron watched in awe as he flirted with them and entertained them with anecdotes about the Malfoy’s shortcomings as a Seeker and captain.  Last year, Ron would have been mad with jealousy over the attention Harry was getting from these girls.  Now, suddenly, he was jealous of the girls getting Harry’s undivided attention.  

 

Ron turned away to chat with Hermione and Ginny for a while.  When he looked back, Harry had moved to where Dean Thomas sat drawing an illustration of the match on a large piece of parchment.  Harry glanced over at Ron, saw him staring, and his whole countenance changed.  His face lit up like a Christmas tree, his bright green eyes glistened and a huge grin crossed his face.  Ron’s heart melted, and any jealously he might have had vanished instantly.  That smile was meant for him alone.

 

* * * * *

 

Lying on his bed late one night after everyone else had fallen asleep, Ron was still trying to get comfortable with his feelings about Harry.  His Harry.  There were certain advantages, Ron thought, to having a secret romance with your best friend of more than six years.  For one thing, nobody noticed you spending a lot of time together, because you’ve always done that.  Plus, you know each other so well that you can get your point across while talking about completely mundane things.  

 

Like yesterday in the common room, after Harry had been giving him “the look” and licking his lips whenever he thought nobody was watching, Ron blurted out of the blue, “Harry, remember you were going to loan me that Do It Yourself Broom Servicing book?”  

 

Harry didn’t skip a beat when he jumped up and said, “Oh, that’s right.  Come upstairs and I’ll get it for you.”  Of course Ron had no interest in the book, just its owner, and Harry had understood this immediately.

 

When they’d entered the empty circular room, Ron had growled, “What do you think you’re doing?  You’re getting me all…excited.  It’s very distracting.”

 

Harry smirked, “Well that was the point.  It’s only fair – I find you distracting all the time.”  He was looking quite pleased with himself, like that time he’d gotten George to bite into one of his own Canary Creams without him knowing.

 

Ron had kissed him then, partly because Harry wasn’t expecting it, and partly because he needed to taste those sensuous lips that had been taunting him for the last hour.  “You’ll want to be more careful,” he’d panted at Harry, “because they’ll be suspicious if I cream my pants in the middle of the common room.”

 

He had expected Harry to laugh, but instead he whimpered, “Oh, God…Ron.”  He leaned into Ron, who could feel against his leg the obvious impact his words had on Harry.  Harry’s next kiss set him on fire again.

 

“So now I know how to get you all worked up,” Ron had chuckled.  “Just talk a little dirty and you’ll be all over me, eh?”

 

Harry had flashed Ron a wanton look, his green eyes piercing through to Ron’s soul.  “And _you’ll_ want to be careful if you continue to tease me, or else brace yourself for whatever might happen next.”  Harry had taken a deep breath and walked over to his trunk and pulled out the Broom Servicing Book.  He chucked it at Ron.  “I’ll service your broom for you if you want…” he’d tried to say with a straight face.  Ron laughed, and they had headed back down to the common room.

 

Now, more than twenty-four hours later, just the memory of Harry’s voice and the feeling of Harry’s lips on his was enough to get his heart racing.  Would he ever get used to the knots in his stomach whenever Harry touched him or kissed him or gave him “the look”?  In Ron’s mind, this was the most confusing part.  He remembered Ginny talking to Mum about butterflies in her stomach whenever she started dating someone new.  This thing he felt with Harry – it was more like having a Firebolt jammed down his throat.  There was nothing subtle about it, which was just as well, because “subtle” was a word that was not usually associated with Ron.  Ron had no idea how he wanted this relationship to resolve.  He felt fairly certain that Harry would let him back out of the situation with no hard feelings.  In fact, Harry hadn’t made a move toward him since the day of the Slytherin match.  He’d let Ron forge ahead at his own speed, knowing how difficult it was for Ron and wanting him to choose to be with Harry for the right reasons.  But Harry had as much as told him that he’d be ready for more whenever Ron was.

 

But Ron wondered…would it even be possible for him to walk away?  Could he go back to being Harry’s mate without their obvious attraction to each other messing things up between them?  He knew that would make Harry miserable, and he certainly didn’t want that.  And if he did choose to go back to the way they were before, he knew that decision would have to be final – Harry deserved better than a prat who couldn’t make up his mind.

 

Ron lay quietly, listening to Neville snore and Dean thrashing about in his sleep.  So what was holding him back from committing himself to the one person he wanted more than anyone else?  Harry’s gender?  Well, true, it was unconventional, but he certainly wasn’t the first Hogwarts student to prefer his own gender.  Besides, he didn’t like all boys, just Harry.  He was worried about what everyone would think of him, though, if they found out.  Merlin, he had five brothers!  He’d never be able to set foot in the same room as Fred or George if they got wind of it.  And if Malfoy found out – the whole school would know in seconds, if they didn’t before.  Wait, not just the school.  Harry Potter was famous, and it would probably be in the _Daily Prophet_ or _Witch Weekly_ within a matter of days.  Ron felt his heart sink.  The thing that scared him most about this budding romance was fear of embarrassment.  He didn’t like having that fear; it didn’t seem right.  He should be able to do whatever he wanted without the world getting involved.  He was just going to have to make sure that nobody ever found out.


	2. THE BEST LAID PLANS

The Great Hall was bustling at lunchtime, and Harry was animatedly repeating to the group at the table a hilarious account of Zacharias Smith, a Chaser on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, being flattened by a Bludger while he was showing off for Eleanor Branstone. He paused only briefly to put his name down on a list that was handed to him and he absently passed it along to Ron. Ron studied the parchment. It was a list of all those who would be staying at Hogwarts for the Christmas holidays. Not very many people were staying – Harry, and a couple of second years so far. Ron passed the list to the next person and continued eating his lunch with great gusto, as he usually did.

Five minutes later Ron got up from the table and picked up his bag. "I’ve got to run back to the dormitory – I forgot that I ran out of ink," he told Harry. Harry was about to tell him he had an extra bottle in his bag, but Ron had already gone.

Ron breezed into Potions class just as Snape was entering the dungeon to begin the lesson. Harry had already partnered with Justin Finch-Fletchley, so Ron slid into the empty seat next to Millicent Bulstrode who eyed him with obvious distrust. Well, he could manage to be civil to Millicent for a couple of hours. Besides, they were working on a very complicated potion today, and he and Harry would both need their wits about them.

Snape walked around the room offering words of encouragement to the Slytherins and criticizing anything he could find wrong with all the other students. He stopped in front of Harry and glared directly into his eyes. Ron heard him drawl, "Isn’t it intriguing, Mr. Potter, that my private stores of potions ingredients were broken into yesterday? And no one seems to know where you were, Potter." 

"I was at Quidditch practice in the afternoon, then at dinner and then at the library, sir. Loads of people saw me. What would I want with your stuff anyway?" Harry’s voice was very calm, almost as if he’d just been awakened from a deep sleep.

"It just so happens that the missing ingredients comprise the antidote to the next potion we will be brewing. Given your abysmal performance in this class, I know exactly why you would want them." Snape continued to eye Harry suspiciously and with the utmost contempt. Suddenly, Snape pointed his wand at Harry and said, " _Legilimens_." Most of the class stopped what they were doing to watch. Snape was obviously performing some kind of a curse on Harry, who was looking quite serene and contented. " _Finite_ ," Snape muttered after a minute or so, his eyes narrowed and his lips curled with hatred. Just before he stormed off to his private storeroom he shouted to the class, "Get back to work, all of you."

"What did he just do to you?" Justin asked Harry, looking very distressed.

"He tried to search my mind to see if I was lying to him. I think he’s angry because I wouldn’t let him do it." Harry calmly went back to chopping his roots as if nothing had happened. Ron noticed that he was grinning, though.

After class, Ron waited at the door for Harry and Hermione. "That was brilliant, Harry," Ron said as they walked up the dungeon stairs. "I reckon you’re really getting the hang of Occlumency now." 

"I don’t know," Harry answered. "I can do all right when I’m not very upset or emotional. It was very easy back there because I knew I was innocent and he was just trying to goad me into doing something stupid. It’s much harder if I’m worked up about something."

Hermione said, "Honestly, Snape just keeps getting worse every year. I don’t know why he insisted on accusing you when half the class knew it was Malfoy who stole the potions ingredients and they tried to pin it on you. They as much told me so."

"Holding a bit of a grudge, aren’t they?" commented Ron. "It’s not your fault that Malfoy stinks at Quidditch or that his dad got landed in Azkaban."

"Well, technically, I think it was my fault his dad got caught. But you’re right. He’s working a little too hard to get me in trouble this year. With all the success he’s had, you’d think he’d back off."

When they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Hermione spoke the password and they climbed through the portrait hole. The common room was deserted. They sat in their favorite armchairs by the fire, but none of them got out their homework.

Hermione said, "Okay, you two. Now that we’re alone, tell me what’s going on." She looked from Harry to Ron and back to Harry.

"Nothing’s going on," Ron replied. "What are you talking about?"

"You two are plotting something, I just know it. You’ve been whispering to each other and wandering off together for weeks. If you’re preparing for your next big adventure, I want in on it. Just because I’m Head Girl doesn’t mean I’m not willing to bend a few rules in order to help in the war effort." She looked at each of them again, her gaze demanding answers and her face resolute.

"Hermione," answered Harry, "I swear we’re not scheming. We’d never exclude you – you know that."

"So what’s with all the secrecy?" asked Hermione.

"Er, we’ve been skiving off work more than we should, and we didn’t want you to yell at us," Ron said. Harry shot him a look to stop talking.

Harry decided this would be a good time to fill them in on everything Dumbledore had told him about the pending war, so he started talking. Voldemort had gathered the Giants, the Dementors and Vampires on his side, while the Ministry had successfully kept the Goblins from joining him for the time being. At Harry’s request, Dumbledore had kept the details of his plan from Harry because he was not sure he was proficient enough at Occlumency to keep Voldemort from learning them.

"Dumbledore has a plan," Harry told them, "and I don’t know what it is, but he seems to think the time for action is approaching soon. There are certain things he wants me to learn, but he’s not telling me why. Hermione, I’m sure that when the time comes, he’ll need you involved, and you too, Ron."

Harry knew a bit more of the plan than he let on, but that was not necessary for Ron and Hermione to know. They would just worry if they knew Harry was going to be the one to attempt the actual killing of Voldemort. He’d never told them he knew what was in the prophecy that broke during their fifth year. Although he’d spent his entire sixth year being angry, Harry was now resigned to his fate, and Dumbledore was working tirelessly to prepare him for the task at hand by giving him extra lessons and finding tutors to teach him what he would need to know. Ron and Hermione knew about his extra work, but they had no idea that by the end of the year he’d know more Defense Against Dark Arts magic than most wizards in the country. As far as Harry could tell, Dumbledore was waiting for one more piece of the puzzle to come into play before making a preemptive move against Voldemort. But he had told Harry time and again to put the war out of his mind and focus on his studies, his friends and making the most of his time at Hogwarts.

A group of second years came into the common room, and Hermione decided it was too noisy to study there. She tried to convince Harry and Ron to go to the library with her, but they weren’t moving. "We’ve got the good chairs, Hermione. We’re not going to give them up for the drafty old library," Ron said finally. 

Ron watched her exit through the portrait hole and surveyed the room. The late afternoon sun was streaming through the windows, casting long shadows across the worn carpet. Harry was surveying Ron with interest, watching his every movement, like a cat ready to pounce when the bird was least expecting it. "Do you want to study or skive off?" Ron asked Harry tentatively.

"I think you know the answer to that." Harry paused. Ron could tell he was struggling to avoid talking about what he wanted to do instead of study. "I guess we should work on that essay for McGonagall, though. It’s due tomorrow and I haven’t started mine yet."

"You know, Harry," Ron blurted out, "we’re going to have to say something about us to Hermione eventually, or she’ll figure it out."

"How about we wait and see if there’s anything to tell her," Harry shot back. 

Ron could hear bitterness in his voice that was rarely there. It stung him. For all the insecurities Ron was working through, he’d forgotten that by being open with Ron about his feelings, Harry had put himself in an extremely vulnerable position and wouldn’t wait there forever. _Weasley, you’re such a jerk_ , he thought angrily.

"Not ‘if’, Harry, ‘when’," Ron answered, trying to be reassuring.

"What d’you mean?" asked Harry, anxiously. 

Ron glanced around the room to see that no one was listening. "I’ve gotten over the initial shock and am ready to, er, move forward, but there are a few bits I haven’t quite worked out yet."

"When you say ‘move forward’ are you talking about, you know, _everything_?" Ron was pretty sure that Harry was talking about sex, as Harry’s eyes were now big as saucers and starting to glisten with excitement.

"Well, to be honest, that’s the bit I haven’t worked out yet…" Ron stopped speaking as a group of first year girls entered the room, suddenly saw Harry and started to giggle. "Oh, come on. We can’t have a decent conversation here – your groupies will be all over you in a minute."

Harry and Ron went up to their dormitory, but Neville was lying on his bed, reading a book called _101 Uses for Household Fungi_. "A walk around the lake?" Harry suggested.

"Only if you wear your heavy cloak and promise not to faint," answered Ron with a grin. They put on their cloaks, told Neville they’d see him at dinner, and left the castle.

The beautiful late autumn sunshine was warm on their skin, although it was fading fast and they knew it would be dark before they returned to the castle. There was a light breeze causing ripples on the lake, but the Giant Squid was nowhere to be seen. In fact, it was eerily quiet except for the sound of their footsteps crushing the dry leaves. Neither boy said much for a long time. When they got to the spot where Harry had collapsed in November, Ron pointed it out saying, "You were here…no, facing this way I think, and I tripped over you and landed about right…here."

"Stop talking about it, Ron. It’s making me cold. Anyway, you were going to tell me what you’ve decided about us. That is why we came out here, isn’t it?" Now that they were out of view of the castle, Harry took hold of Ron’s hand, and they continued walking.

Ron shared his musings of the past several weeks. He tried to explain that as the youngest of six brothers, he was constantly teased, and he had learned over his seventeen years never to voluntarily give them even the least bit of ammunition. He talked about being unable to control his feelings when Harry was around, and how that made him nervous. Finally, he talked about the need for secrecy, and how they’d both be miserable if anyone found out about them.

Harry understood the first two points, but was indignant on the last one. "Why should I even care if anyone finds out about us," he steamed. "I’ve always stood up for you, and I’m proud to be with you so if people don’t like it, it’s their problem."

"Harry," interrupted Ron, "you have to look at the bigger picture. What do you think would happen if Malfoy found out about us? Who would be the first person he’d tell?"

"I don’t know," conceded Harry. "Crabbe or Goyle, probably."

"Maybe, but I’m sure it wouldn’t take five minutes before he sent an owl off to Rita Skeeter, who would blab to the _Daily Prophet_ , or _Witch Weekly_. I mean, Harry, you’ve got to face facts. You’re famous, and people love to read about your love life, even if it’s made up. And how much better could it be for the tabloids than to find out that the famous Harry Potter is shagging his school chum!"

"I guess I didn’t think about it that way," admitted Harry.

"Well, at least one of us is still thinking with his brain," grinned Ron. 

Harry stopped and turned towards Ron. He stood close enough so that Ron could feel the steam his breath made as it met the cold air. "All right, since you’re the clever one, tell me how we’re going to be together and keep it from everyone. You can’t expect me to keep my hands off you forever. I already feel like I should be canonized for behaving myself for this long."

Dusk had fallen, and they were on the far side of the lake. Their lips met and all of Ron’s resolve to put off any physical relationship with Harry until he had a workable plan was suddenly thrown out the window. _I need him_ , thought Ron _. I need this. How thick would I have to be to walk away from Harry?_

 

* * * * *

 

Harry and Ron arrived late to breakfast the next morning, having stayed up until the wee hours of the morning finishing their Transfiguration essays. Although Hermione had been an excellent influence on their study habits, it was impossible to concentrate when the object of one’s affection was sitting across the table sucking on the end of his quill. They had barely sat down when the owl post arrived. Ron looked up to see Pig fluttering about the Great Hall, toting a rolled-up piece of parchment. As soon as he came within arm’s reach, Ron snatched him out of the air, chastising the small owl again for being a show-off.

Ron removed the parchment from his owl and scanned it quickly. He smiled and stuffed the letter into his bag.

"Who’s it from?" asked Harry.

"Mum." Ron didn’t elaborate, which made Harry suspicious. Ron was not usually smiling when he received letters from his mum because they were nearly always prompted by some bit of mischief Ron had gotten into.

Double Transfiguration was almost intolerable, since they’d had far too little sleep and were simply not interested in knowing how to turn sheep into blankets. Harry seriously doubted that he’d ever be in a situation where he had a sheep on hand but needed a blanket instead. However, Hermione kept prodding him with her wand to wake him up, so he figured he needed to stay awake for his own safety. 

As they gathered to leave, Ron said, "You two go on ahead. I need to speak to Professor McGonagall for a minute." He watched them exit the classroom and headed to the front.

"What is it, Mr. Weasley?" asked Professor McGonagall as he approached her desk.

"Professor, I received a letter from my parents this morning, and they’ve given me permission to stay here over the holidays. Can I still add my name to the list?" Ron handed her the parchment and she read it carefully.

"Yes, this seems to be in order. And Ginny, will she be staying also?"

"No, Professor. Just me." 

Professor McGonagall handed the letter back to Ron and said, "Very well. I shall add your name to the list."

Ron walked calmly out of the Transfiguration classroom, but as soon as he reached the hallway he pumped his fist and said, "Yes!" loudly enough so that a couple of first-years turned around to gawk at him. Ron didn’t care, though. This was the best news he’d had in days. His brilliant plan was starting to come together. He thought he’d keep the news from Harry for another week or so as a surprise. After all, they still had nearly two weeks of classes before the holidays and Harry, at least, would be able to get some work done.

 

* * * * *

 

As it turned out, though, the next week was so busy that they had hardly any time to themselves. Many of their teachers chose to give exams, since they felt the last week of classes before the holidays was useless. Harry had three tutoring lessons for extra Defense Against the Dark Arts and it was a Hogsmeade weekend.

On Saturday, Harry, Ron and Hermione set off together for Hogsmeade, discussing on the way which shops they wanted to visit. They agreed that they would need to split up after lunch, since they had presents to buy for each other. They spent the morning at the usual spots: Zonko’s, Dervish and Banges and, of course, Honeydukes. At Gladrags Wizardwear, Harry bought Dobby some bright red socks with pictures of different colored socks on them. On a whim, he decided to buy a pair of black wool socks for Professor Dumbledore as a joke. Dumbledore had once told him his deepest desire was a pair of thick woolen socks.

They entered The Three Broomsticks and found it packed with Hogwarts students, but there was a small empty table near the back. As they approached it, they saw Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein and a few other Ravenclaw boys at the next table. Hermione waved enthusiastically at them as they sat down. Harry was about to go up to the bar to place their orders, but Madam Rosmerta was already on her way over, smiling at him broadly. On one of his Hogsmeade visits last year, Harry had asked her about his father and Sirius Black, and she’d spent nearly two hours regaling them with as many stories as she could remember about them. Since then, she had been especially friendly to him. She took their orders and was back in a flash, but was too busy to sit with them today.

When they finished, Hermione set off to do her solo shopping. Harry and Ron were debating whether to have another butterbeer or head out themselves when they heard Anthony Goldstein say "Hermione Granger." They immediately stopped talking and listened intently to the rest of the conversation.

"Well at least she’s smarter than the rest of those giggling Gryffindor girls," Terry Boot was saying. "Remember she did that Protean Charm for the D.A. as a fifth-year?"

"Yeah," interrupted a boy they recognized as a fifth-year, "but if you make her angry, you might end up with the word "JERK" written across your face _a la_ Marietta Edgecombe." Everyone at the table laughed, remembering how Marietta had ratted on the D.A. to Professor Umbridge and ended up with the word "SNEAK" across her face for three days before Madam Pomfrey figured out how to remove it.

Anthony said, "Marietta deserved what she got though, didn’t she? Anyway, about Hermione, do you think she’s dating anyone?"

"Not that I know of," answered Terry. "I’m sure Padma could find out from Parvati though. Or," he motioned to Ron and Harry’s table, "we could just ask them."

"Ask us what?" said Harry, turning around. "Sorry, couldn’t help but overhear you."

"Oh. Well…I was just wondering if Hermione is dating anyone right now," stammered Anthony shyly.

"No. No she’s not. Why? Are you going to ask her out?" asked Harry, a little too enthusiastically.

"Er, you two aren’t…" Anthony started to ask hesitantly.

"No. Never have, despite rumors to the contrary. She’s too much like the sister I never had."

"And…him?" asked Anthony, pointing to Ron.

Harry grinned. "Oil and water. One date, lasted forty-five minutes. But don’t read anything into that. I’m sure _you_ wouldn’t insult her."

"I can’t believe you’re still taking her side on that," piped up Ron. "How was I supposed to know she was winding me up? I thought she had it coming!" Everyone laughed at Ron’s righteous indignation.

Harry continued, "Really, Anthony, she’s a lovely girl. You’re probably one of the few people at Hogwarts who is in her league. Go ahead and ask her out."

"Yes," replied Anthony, "I think I will. But don’t say anything to her, all right? I’m not sure when I’ll find the time."

"Wouldn’t dream of it," said Ron, and Harry nodded.

Several minutes later they were walking out of The Three Broomsticks with another piece of their plan in place. If Hermione were to start dating Anthony, she wouldn’t have time to notice that they weren’t paying as much attention to her. Now all they had to do was to get Hermione to buy into the program. They went as far as Dervish and Banges together and then separated.

Ron had just finished his shopping when he met Ginny and her friends outside the post office. "Ginny!" he said, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she said and they stepped away from the group. "I suppose you want to borrow more money…" she started.

"No, but thanks again. I’m totally broke now, but I got everything I wanted. I was wanting to ask you how well you know Anthony Goldstein."

"Fairly well, I guess. He's good friends with Michael Corner, and I got to know him a couple of years ago." Ginny was eyeing him suspiciously. "Why?"

"Do you think Hermione would go out with him?" asked Ron anxiously.

"Playing matchmaker now, are you? Don’t you have enough trouble with your own love life?" teased Ginny.

"Get off it, Gin," Ron said. "He just mentioned he wanted to ask her out, and I was thinking it was about time she dated someone nice…"

"Nicer than you?" interrupted Ginny, laughing. "Well, I can assure you he’d never call her a…"

"Yeah, go ahead and laugh. I’ve already been humiliated by that story once today. Rub it in, why don’t you."

"Sorry, but you did set yourself up for that one. I tell you what – I’ll put in a good word for Anthony. But it will be up to Hermione to decide whether she wants to go out with him."

"Thanks Ginny," said Ron. "Oh, one other thing…" Ginny, who had started to leave, turned back to face him. "I’ve decided to stay here for Christmas. Mum and Dad said it was okay. But don’t say anything to Harry yet. It’s kind of a surprise."

"Why don’t you ask Harry to come to the Burrow? I’m sure it would be fine."

"Can’t. He needs to stay near Dumbledore. Hardly anyone else is staying, and I don’t want him to be here all alone." Ron could feel his face flush, and he hoped Ginny would just think he was cold.

"Boy, the two of you are practically joined at the hip, aren’t you? If I didn’t know you better, Ron, I’d really be wondering."

"Very funny, Gin. Go pick on your friends now, would you?" he retorted. As he started towards Honeydukes, where he was to meet Harry and Hermione, he thought, _Oh Ginny, you don’t know me at all_. 

 

* * * * *

 

With so many people skiving off their studies the last few days of the term, Ron and Harry could hardly find a moment alone together. Harry kept sighing heavily and wondering aloud what he’d do for two weeks without Ron. Ron would answer, "Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of something," or "It will be a good chance to catch up on your homework." Finally, on the last day of classes, Ron thought the time was right to spring his surprise on Harry. Ron watched Dean and Seamus walk out of the portrait hole together, while Hermione and Neville were discussing Neville’s research on the _mumbulus Mimbletonia_. Then he literally pulled a very confused Harry up to their dormitory.

"What’s going on?" asked Harry, rubbing his arm ruefully.

Ron sat on his bed and motioned for Harry to join him. "I thought I ought to tell you about one of your Christmas presents."

Harry’s eyes lit up with anticipation. "It’s a little early, isn’t it?"

"Okay," teased Ron. "I was going to tell you, but now I’ll wait…"

"No, Ron, tell me what it is!"

"I’m staying at Hogwarts for the holidays!" If Ron was bursting with excitement, it was no comparison to Harry’s reaction. Sure, Harry had been shamelessly dropping hints that he’d like Ron to stay, but he never imagined Ron would actually do it! The delightful expression on Harry’s face reminded Ron of when they were eleven on their first Christmas morning together and he discovered he had gotten presents.

Harry threw his arms around Ron and growled, "This is going to be great. You and me…we’re going to be incredible." 

"Happy Christmas, Harry!" Ron couldn’t remember ever saying anything that brought this much joy to someone. He was so pleased to have been able to make Harry so happy. Harry’s gratitude and sheer delight at being able to have Ron to himself for a couple of weeks would far outweigh any other gift he might receive that Christmas. And Harry’s embrace reminded him of other things he had to look forward to.

Harry was in such a good mood from then on that it seemed to be contagious. As he, Ron and Hermione strode past the Slytherins to enter the Great Hall for dinner, Hermione spat, "Stuff it, Malfoy," at him before he even had a chance to get his customary insult out. 

Ginny sat on Ron’s other side at dinner, and halfway through the pudding she whispered to him, "I don’t think Anthony will have any problem getting Hermione to accept a date. She already likes him."

"Thanks, Gin – you’re the best!" said Ron, happily. He relayed Ginny’s information to Harry, who nodded to indicate he’d take care of the rest. He watched Harry casually lean over to the Ravenclaw table and whisper something to Anthony, who was sitting directly behind him.

After dinner, the Gryffindor common room was buzzing with energy now that classes were done for the holidays. People were tearing in and out of the dormitories packing their things to leave, while several games of Exploding Snap were taking place simultaneously, making conversation difficult. Glancing up from an issue of _Which Broomstick_ , Ron noticed a stunned look on Harry’s face and followed his gaze to the girls’ dormitory staircase. There stood Hermione, looking as beautiful as Ron could ever remember seeing her. Her clothes were casual but stylish, her hair was smooth and caught up in a tasteful clip at the nape of her neck, and she was carrying her cloak. She saw them ogling her and crossed the room with a satisfied smile on her face.

"Hermione," said Ron, with his eyes practically bulging out of his head, "you look…really nice! Going somewhere?"

"Just going out for a walk on the grounds. Nothing special," she said mysteriously, her eyes twinkling like Dumbledore’s did when he was amused.

"Nothing special, my arse," choked Harry. He turned to Ron, "You’ll notice she doesn’t rush to do herself up like this when _we_ ask her to take a walk. So who’s the lucky bloke, Hermione?"

"Anthony Goldstein."

Ron grinned, "Oh, poor Anthony. He doesn’t know what he’s in for. Maybe Harry and I should go along to chaperone – for Anthony’s protection, of course."

Hermione pretended to be cross, even though they could both see she was very pleased at the positive response to her efforts. "Don’t you come anywhere near us, Ron Weasley, or I’ll try out one of those new hexes we’ve been learning in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"She’s not kidding, Ron," joined in Harry. "I’ve been on the receiving end of some of those hexes." To Hermione he said, "Seriously, Hermione, have a great time tonight, but be careful. It’s expecting a lot to think he’ll be able to keep his hands off you."

"Honestly, this is Anthony Goldstein we’re talking about, not Justin Finch-Fletchley. You two are terrible – now I can see why Ginny dreads telling you who she’s dating!" Hermione looked at her watch. "I’ve got to run. Don’t wait up!"

"He didn’t waste any time, I see," said Ron as they watched Hermione leave through the portrait hole.

"The way I figure it," Harry replied, "his gain is our gain. Let’s keep our fingers crossed that they last more than forty-five minutes."

Ron covered his face with his hands. "I’ll never live that down, will I?" 

Harry laughed. "I doubt it. There are plenty of us around to keep reminding you."

They played two games of wizard’s chess, with Ron beating Harry soundly the first match and the second ending in a draw. It was just after curfew when Hermione returned from her date. She waved at them, called goodnight and headed straight up to the girls’ dormitory.

"She’s not going to tell us anything about her date, is she?" mused Ron.

"Can’t blame her, really. If it were you out on the date, would you tell the two of us?" replied Harry with one eyebrow raised.

"Not the truth, anyway. She wasn’t crying, though, so I bet she fared better than you and Cho Chang," said Ron, trying not to laugh.

"Not my finest hour, was it? I’d like to think I’ve improved."

Ron answered in a hushed voice, "We’ll see tomorrow night, won’t we?"


	3. Christmas Gifts

Harry and Ron accompanied Hermione and Ginny to the entrance hall to catch their coaches to the Hogwarts Express. As Ron hugged his sister goodbye, he muttered, "Get the scoop on Hermione and Anthony Goldstein, would you?" Aloud he called cheerfully, "Happy Christmas! See you in a few weeks!"

Then suddenly, nearly everyone had gone, and Ron and Harry were standing at the top of the stairs, watching the carriages move quickly through the light new-fallen snow. Ron shivered, but he wasn’t entirely sure it was from the cold. His stomach was knotted up again – he found he was very nervous to be alone with Harry.

Harry must have been nervous too, because Ron noticed him fiddling with the buttons on his robes. He looked at Ron and quietly cleared his throat. "Well, here we are then."

Ron nodded uncomfortably. Somehow the thought of spending countless hours in Harry’s arms was much less terrifying when there was absolutely no chance it could occur. Now there were no excuses – he was going to follow through on his month-long fantasy and the prospect scared him silly. They headed back to Gryffindor Tower, and Ron was suddenly aware of how silent the castle was without hoards of students milling about. Their footsteps echoed in the hallways, and when they spoke, the sound of their voices reverberated off the stone walls.

Ron followed Harry through the portrait hole and up the stairs to their dormitory. He wondered anxiously if the sound would echo off the circular walls and carry to the other parts of the tower. Harry shut the door behind them, took hold of Ron’s hand and led him to his four-poster.

Ron’s breathing was shallow and his heart was racing. His stomach was in such fits that he started to panic. "Harry, this is making me nervous. Will you be angry if I retch on you?"

"Yes," said Harry, "so please don’t." He took off his shoes and climbed behind Ron, who was sitting on the bed. "Let’s see if we can get you to relax," he purred. Harry put one of his hands on each of Ron’s shoulders and started to knead his neck muscles with his thumbs. It felt very nice to have Harry touch him this way. "That’s right," Harry continued softly, "take deep breaths and relax your shoulders."

Five minutes later, Ron was putty in his hands. Harry had persuaded him to lie on his stomach on the bed, and his shirt was lying in a crumpled mess on the floor. Harry’s deft fingers had discovered muscles he never knew he had, but every time Ron was feeling totally relaxed, Harry would lean down and trace the outline of Ron’s spine with his tongue or leave a trail of little kisses along the back of his neck, tensing him up again. It became clear to Ron that Harry was enjoying giving this attention as much as he enjoyed receiving it. Ron tried to look at Harry’s face, but his neck wouldn’t turn that way, so instead he got a waist-down view that gave testimony to Harry’s excitement.

Instinctively, he reached out for Harry’s zipper, but Harry pulled away before Ron could lower it. "Right now we’re doing you, not me," he said.

"But I want to see it," replied Ron, "and touch it." He was surprised by his own boldness, and was thrilled when Harry stopped massaging him and dropped his jeans to the floor. "That too," Ron said, pointing at Harry’s underwear. It fell on top of his jeans. The sight of Harry stripping before him, his cock bright red and standing at attention, begging for attention, nearly pushed Ron over the edge with desire. He got to his feet and went to work on his own trousers, and soon freed his own erection as well. The two boys were now both standing, Ron in his socks and Harry in socks and his shirt, which was unbuttoned and falling part way off his shoulder. They embraced, and Ron reached down to wrap one hand around Harry’s shaft, eliciting a loud, deep moan from Harry’s mouth. Ron lowered his lips to Harry’s and their tongues darted into each other’s mouths while Ron’s hand moved back and forth from cradling Harry’s balls all the way up his dick to the head which was sticky with pre-come. Harry’s hand found Ron’s shaft and it wasn’t long until Ron gasped, "Oh…Merlin…yes!" as the ecstasy washed over him and he came with the force he couldn’t control. Harry’s orgasm followed seconds later, and the two of them collapsed on the bed, barely coherent and giggling like two of Harry’s first-year groupies.

After a few minutes of cuddles and caresses, they acknowledged that they were a collective sticky mess. Ron found his wand and cast a cleaning charm. Looking at the pile of clothes that had been hastily cast aside, Harry commented, "We’ll need to be working on our stamina, I guess."

"Sorry," blushed Ron. "I didn’t expect it to be so…intense." He glanced at Harry, who was obviously trying hard not to laugh. "What?"

"Well, when I was fantasizing about us, I imagined we’d actually make it to the bed first."

"Come on, then," said Ron, pulling back the covers on Harry’s bed. He slipped between the cool sheets and held up the corner, inviting Harry to join him. As Harry slid into bed next to him, Ron said, "Is this more like what you were expecting?"

"Mmmmm," replied Harry, whose lips were now thoroughly occupied with the hollow of Ron’s neck. Ron’s hands were all over Harry, softly caressing the small of his back and tracing the curve of his arse. He had no idea what he was doing, but he took his cues from Harry. If he did something that caused Harry to gasp, he made a mental note to do it again.

Unlike their previous frantic gyrations, this time their lovemaking was slow and methodical – starting at a low simmer and building to a fever pitch with their fingers and tongues and limbs entwined with one another’s. Ron nibbled gently on Harry’s earlobe and whispered some dirty little words in his ear and a few seconds later he felt the sticky warmth of Harry’s seed on his abdomen. The thrill of making Harry that excited was enough to make Ron come as well.

 

* * * * *

 

By the time they turned in for the evening, Ron and Harry were lethargic from having done nothing but lounge in bed all day. They’d taken showers so they would be presentable for dinner (Ron found he was famished, having missed lunch!), and after eating had retired back to their dormitory. Their erotic desires having been sated for the time being, they were reading side by side, half-naked on their stomachs on Ron’s bed.

"I’m tired," said Harry, as he rolled over and looked at the clock. "It’s half past ten – we should go to sleep. We have a busy day planned for tomorrow."

Ron looked at him curiously. "We don’t have any plans for tomorrow. What are you talking about?"

Harry took his glasses off and set them on the table beside the bed. "Tomorrow," he said with a grin as he stripped off the rest of his clothes and slid into Ron’s bed, "is the day I’m going to teach myself how to give you a blow job."

"Oh, now I’ll be able to sleep," said Ron, getting into bed with him. He picked up his wand and called out "Nox." The lights went out and they fought for territory, two nearly full-grown young men in a student-sized bed. Finally, they both settled on their left sides, spooning together so they could enjoy the feeling of each other’s flesh against their own. Ron lay awake for a long time, listening as Harry’s breathing became slower and slower. He was trying to figure out what he did to deserve having this extraordinary person, the famous and sexy Harry Potter, close up against his body and sleeping naked in his bed. And there was that feeling, the one he’d only remembered having a few times before, that was like a hunger, but was more desperate, more…primal, than anything he could describe. For the first time he allowed himself think, Is this what it feels like to be in love?

 

* * * * *

 

After a restless night, Ron awoke early with a stiff neck and his arm tingling from the weight of Harry’s shoulder cutting off his circulation. He extracted himself from Harry and quietly got out of the bed. He pulled on his dressing gown and turned to watch Harry sleep. God, he was beautiful. Sleeping peacefully with his head on Ron’s pillow, his lightning bolt shaped scar barely visible in the dim light of the winter morning, Harry looked vulnerable and calm…and happy.

How Ron wanted him to be happy! Harry didn’t often talk about the traumas he’d been through, but Ron knew that the scar on his forehead was nothing compared to his deep emotional scars. Yet he somehow got through it all and managed to be cheerful most of the time. For some reason, being with Ron made him happy. As Ron considered it, he knew Harry wasn’t in this relationship, with all its inherent risks, for Ron’s benefit. No, he had definitely chosen to be with Ron because it was what he wanted. Ron suspected he had received a fair number of propositions for sex over the past year, ever since the truth about You-Know-Who’s return became known. But, as far as Ron knew, Harry had never acted on them. So what could Ron give him that no one else could? Ron didn’t have anything that wasn’t rubbish, and he wasn’t very good at sex yet (but he was willing to work on this). The thing Ron had going for him, he decided, was unquestionable loyalty and unconditional friendship. He’d never let Harry down, just as he knew without a doubt that Harry would always be there for him.

Ron watched as Harry’s eyelashes fluttered and his arm moved to the spot where Ron had just been sleeping. He opened his eyes when his brain registered that Ron was no longer in the bed.

"I’m right here," Ron said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed closest to Harry.

Harry rubbed his eyes and blinked. "What time is it?"

"Quarter past seven."

"Why did you leave? You never get up this early when we don’t have lessons." Harry sat up and reached for his glasses.

"My arm fell asleep. I don’t think these beds are meant to sleep two seventh-year boys, mate," Ron replied with a smile.

"Well, no, they wouldn’t be, would they?" chuckled Harry. He stretched his arms over his head and reached over to kiss Ron. "Did you have pleasant dreams?" he asked.

"No, I don’t think I dreamt at all. I hardly slept. I noticed you were sleeping like the dead, though."

"I must have been worn out by all our activity yesterday," said Harry, smugly.

They decided to go down to breakfast and found, to their delight, a small group of students in the midst of trying to organize a pick-up Quidditch game. With Ron and Harry joining, they were able to put together a five-on-five match. Even though there was still a dusting of snow on the ground, the sky was bright blue and it promised to be excellent flying weather.

Ron and Harry played their customary positions for the same team, and the other team had the Keeper from the Slytherin House team and a Chaser from the Hufflepuff House team. There were a few students who were reserves for house teams too, so it was a surprisingly good match-up. Harry purposely didn’t look that hard for the Snitch, as he didn’t want to end the game before he’d had a chance to get some good flying in. He had now decided that the two best things in the world were flying on a broomstick and sex. The order was still up for debate, since he was very proficient at flying, but still lacked experience with sex. He flew over towards Ron who was watching while their team was attempting to score on the other side of the pitch.

"How many points do I get if I catch your Snitch," Harry called as he got close. He saw Ron blush.

"One Hundred Fifty, of course. Unless you catch it in your mouth like you did during that match against Slytherin our first year. That would be worth loads more points." Ron flew off in the direction of the far goal post as the other team’s Chaser stormed towards him. Harry watched as Ron guessed correctly and made a diving save.

Harry noticed the other team’s Seeker diving towards the middle of the field and raced forward to see if she’d seen the Snitch. With the speed of his Firebolt, he arrived just in time to cause her to veer off target, and when they wheeled around to find the Snitch, it had vanished again.

After several hours and a dozen near misses, Harry finally caught the Snitch. It was close to lunchtime, and everyone looked cold and tired. They headed up the hill to the castle and piled into the Great Hall, where large tureens of stew and freshly baked bread were waiting for them.

There were only fifteen students staying for the holidays. In addition to the players from their impromptu Quidditch match, there were two Gryffindor second-year girls, a first-year Slytherin boy and two fifth-year Ravenclaws who appeared to be a couple (girl and boy) and were being heavily scrutinized by the Grey Lady, the Ravenclaw ghost.

Harry and Ron ate ravenously and helped themselves to seconds and thirds, as if still trying to make up for the lunch they’d skipped the day before. Now warm and well fed, they leisurely made their way back to the Gryffindor Tower.

"Grab some clean clothes and follow me," said Ron once they returned to the dormitory.

Harry cleared his throat and responded, "I was thinking I might get on with my lesson for the day. Wait, Ron, where are we going?" Ron had already started back down the stairs and didn’t answer. As Harry followed him through the common room, the two second-years asked where he was going, and he shrugged as he followed Ron out of the portrait hole.

Ron led them to the fifth floor, down a deserted hallway and around a corner. There was a statue of Boris the Bewildered, and at last Harry knew where they were going. Four doors to the left of the statue, Ron said, "Spring green," and the door opened.

"I’m the only prefect here, so we won’t be disturbed," Ron said, motioning Harry inside. "Of course, the teachers can get in…"

"And the ghosts," chimed in Harry, remembering his last visit to the Prefects’ bathroom when Moaning Myrtle had helped him work out the Golden Egg clue from the Triwizard Tournament.

"Right, the ghosts too. So we’ll have to be a bit careful." Ron turned on the taps and the tub began filling with water and bubbles. "Did you notice that poor Ravenclaw couple? I’ll bet they had the same idea we did, but the Grey Lady isn’t going to give them a moment’s peace."

Harry noticed that the mermaid in the painting was watching them, which gave him all the more reason to be wary of being intimate with Ron. They got into the tub, which was nearly full, and Harry swam over to where Ron was turning off the tap. "That mermaid is going to watch everything we do," he whispered. Ron looked at Harry, and then the mermaid, and nodded.

Despite the fact that they were heavily chaperoned, Ron and Harry stayed in the bath for nearly an hour, swimming, having bubble fights and generally playing in the tub. After a horrible night’s sleep and nearly three hours on a broomstick, Ron felt particularly refreshed and relaxed when they made their way back to the Gryffindor Tower.

"How did you know about the nosy mermaid?" Ron asked when they got back to their room. "I never noticed her, and I’ve been using that bathroom for two years."

Harry told him about Cedric’s advice and the offer to use the Prefects’ bathroom during the Triwizard Tournament, as well as his encounter with Moaning Myrtle. "It sort of makes one paranoid with all these ghosts and pictures watching, doesn’t it?"

"If I wasn’t paranoid before, I am now. I guess it’s good to think about, though. I would hate for our brilliant plan for secrecy to be blown to bits by a gossipy picture." Ron stopped talking as he noticed that Harry had turned down the covers of his bed, poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher by the window, and was now removing most of his clothing.

Harry reached out his hand to Ron and pulled him close. Ron looked into Harry’s radiant green eyes, and recognized "the look" immediately. There were no words to describe it other than pure, unadulterated lust. Harry was undressing Ron with his eyes, and without saying a word, he was able to invoke that same passion within Ron. Ron felt his stomach knotting up again, but this time it wasn’t nerves – it was that hunger or passion or lust that he knew he couldn’t control.

Harry began to remove Ron’s clothes, first the jumper, then his t-shirt, belt and jeans. After each item was discarded, Harry kissed the newly exposed flesh, sweet with the perfume of their bath. When Ron, like Harry, was wearing nothing but underwear, Harry stood facing him, kissing his lips and moving his hands along Ron’s thighs, up through the leg holes of his briefs, gently caressing the soft curves of his buttocks.

"I’m sorry, Ron, but I’m afraid my education will require certain sacrifices on your part," whispered Harry, who was teasing Ron by fiddling with the waistband of his underwear.

"I’m happy to do all I can for the furthering of your education, Harry. You know that," Ron responded, now getting very short of breath. "Tell me what you want me to do."

Ron could feel Harry’s fingers lightly tickling the soft skin under the elastic around his waist. "First these will have to go, and then, to the bed." Ron turned towards the bed and bent down as he removed his underwear. As he did so, he felt Harry behind him, running his hands over Ron’s bare back. The tip of Harry’s manhood was pressing insistently against the cleft of his arse. Then Ron lay on the bed, and Harry knelt over him, stroking the skin of his shoulders with his fingertips and kissing his lips with passionate fire. As his hands moved lower down Ron’s body, so did his lips, so that soon Harry was tugging gently at his erect nipples, and then swirling the tip of his tongue over first one, and then the other. By the time Harry’s tongue started moving in little circles at the base of Ron’s now throbbing cock, Ron could no longer feel his feet and he was trying to remember all the leaders of the Goblin Rebellions so that he wouldn’t explode all over Harry’s face. Finally Harry was licking his shaft – slowly at first, from the base upward, as if savoring a delicious treat. When his tongue reached the tip he would swirl it around on the end, teasing little droplets out of the tiny slit on the head. As Ron’s breathing became shallower, he started bucking his hips, unable to keep himself from the delights of Harry’s lips. And then he felt Harry’s hands grabbing his arse and pulling him up into his "O"-shaped mouth. The sensation of being engulfed in the moist cavern of Harry’s mouth was driving him wild. He was fucking Harry’s mouth and Harry was sucking as hard as he could and there was no way he wasn’t going to…

"Fuck…Harry…Oh…" Ron gasped with a final thrust. But Harry’s mouth continued to suck and his tongue coaxed spasm after spasm until Ron had nothing left to give. Harry released the suction of his mouth and crawled up to lie next to Ron, who, he worried, might have passed out. A minute or so passed with neither of them speaking, but Ron’s chest was still heaving rapidly as Harry lovingly caressed his skin.

"I can now die happy, Harry," said Ron finally. "I’d grade you an Outstanding for that."

Harry laughed, "You're not exactly discriminating, but it’s nice to know you appreciate my efforts."

"Appreciate? Are you kidding? For a while there I couldn’t feel my feet! You were incredible! As soon as I can move, I’ll return the favor." Ron paused. "Did it...you know...taste bad?"

Harry considered this, licking his lips and trying to remember, and then burst into a huge grin. "No, it didn’t taste bad – didn’t really taste like much actually. But I was just thinking...You know Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans? They really do mean every flavor!"

"Ugh! Do you mean you’ve gotten a...spunk-flavored one?" Ron wrinkled his nose with disgust.

"Yeah, I think so," replied Harry reflectively. "Maybe a couple of times, but I could never identify the flavor."

They laughed, and knew they would never feel the same way about Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans again.

 

* * * * *

 

Not wanting Dobby or any of the other house-elves to be wise to their new sleeping arrangements when they brought in Christmas presents, Ron and Harry each slept in their own beds. Ron thought this would greatly improve his ability to get a good night’s rest, but he found himself waking repeatedly, listening for the sound of Harry’s breathing and longing for the warmth of Harry’s soft skin against him. Sure enough, when Ron was woken early Christmas morning by the bizarre voice that belonged to Dobby and a yelp of pain from Harry, he knew they had made the right decision, and was quite pleased that Dobby had been prodding Harry and not him. Harry and Dobby exchanged presents (socks!) and then Dobby left them alone to enjoy their morning in peace.

Ron crawled into Harry’s bed and wrapped his arms around him. "Happy Christmas, Harry," he said softly into Harry’s ear.

"Happy Christmas, Ron," Harry answered. He turned his head and kissed Ron, still gripping the hideous pair of aquamarine tube socks that had been his gift from Dobby. "Look at all these presents I’ve got this year, Ron! Can you believe it?"

It never ceased to amaze – and amuse – Ron that Harry would get so excited about presents on Christmas morning. It’s not that he cared what they were – even the outrageously ugly socks from Dobby gave him a thrill. Harry was like, well, a kid at Christmas. Ron knew Harry’s delight grew out of ten years of jealous rage at watching his cousin Dudley open mounds of presents while Harry opened nothing but rubbish. Still, it was so much fun to see the pure joy emanating from his face and the delight sparkling in his beautiful eyes.

"Go on, then," Ron said, nodding at the huge pile of presents. Ron didn’t move, except to shift his arm from Harry’s shoulder to his waist.

Harry glanced over at Ron’s pile of presents, which was nearly falling off his bed. "Aren’t you going to open yours?"

"No, I’ll wait. I’d rather watch you."

Harry gave him a look as if he were sprouting fifteen heads, shrugged, and pulled over the first package. It was long and thin and wrapped in black tissue paper. Harry read the card – it was from Hermione.

"At least it doesn’t look like a talking homework diary," said Ron hopefully, reminding Harry of the gift they’d each gotten from her two years ago that nearly drove them mad.

It turned out to be a quill, enchanted to be self-inking. "This is great – should come in useful while we prepare for NEWTs," Harry said with a smile.

He opened several more presents, including the latest Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes from Fred and George, the traditional Weasley jumper (green again, to match his eyes) and mince pies, and a few other things from Hagrid and from his friends in the Order. There were handfuls of Honeydukes candy sent by a variety of hopeful, but soon to be very disappointed, first- and second-year girls. Finally, he got to Ron’s packages.

"Which one should I open first?" asked Harry, staring at the three parcels of various sizes.

"Doesn’t matter. I got you little things this year, instead of one big present," Ron answered.

"You already gave me a big present," said Harry, grinning.

"What…you mean because I stayed here over Christmas?"

"That, plus the best blow job I’ve ever had."

"How many have you had?" Ron asked, with his eyebrows raised.

"One."

Ron tried his best to imitate Snape. "You are too easily satisfied, Mr. Potter. You have no idea how very far behind you are…" Ron and Harry laughed. Ron continued, "Besides, that wasn’t your Christmas present – unless you’d like to suggest that every day should be Christmas!"

"Listen to you! How easily corrupted you are with a few kisses and a well-placed tongue. If you aren’t careful, I’m going to start getting ideas, and then you’ll never get to open your presents."

"You’re the one who’s stalling," said Ron. "Just pick one and open it."

Harry picked up the largest of the three and ripped off the brown paper. They both laughed as he pulled out an enormous box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.

"I’m going to pick out all the cloudy white ones and compare the taste. Then we’ll know for sure," chuckled Harry, putting the box aside.

The next package contained a small volume called 1998 Guide to the International Association of Quidditch. It contained statistics on all the teams in the Association and rosters of players signed to the 1997-1998 season. "Blimey, Ron, this is brilliant! I didn’t know you could find out all this stuff about the teams. Here, let’s find Wood." Harry flipped through the pages until they found Puddlemere United, and followed down the column until he saw "Oliver Wood, Keeper." He pointed in the book and showed it to Ron, and smiled broadly again.

Ron’s heart filled with emotion. It was just a stupid book, but Harry was acting as if it was the whole bloody library. Ron couldn’t ever remember getting so much enjoyment out of watching someone else’s happiness. Come to think of it, he couldn’t ever remember giving more than a fleeting acknowledgement to someone else’s happiness. He just knew he wanted to keep that smile on Harry’s face, and that he’d do anything to keep from ever disappointing him.

Harry examined the third package with great curiosity. It was very small, only slightly larger than a Snitch. He carefully peeled off the tissue paper wrapping. Inside was a necklace – a thin but strong silver chain with a red stone charm on it that was no more than two centimeters long. It was shaped like a knot, with tassels carved on the ends. Harry turned it over in his hand and examined the back, which was nearly identical to the front.

"What is this?" he asked, squinting up at Ron. "It looks really old."

"It’s called a Tyet of Isis. It’s an amulet that is supposed to offer anyone who wears it protection from every kind of evil. When we were in Egypt on holiday, Mum spent the whole time looking for one of these to give to Bill to protect him from the curses around the Egyptian tombs. I thought it might come in handy."

Harry looked at it again and opened the clasp. "Help me put it on, will you? It can’t hurt to wear it, and it looks pretty cool." Ron secured the clasp behind Harry’s neck. When he was done, Harry reached around and caught him in a hug.

"Thanks, mate," he said. "I love everything you gave me, but this one means the most." He patted the little charm.

Ron had a lump in his throat, and his mouth was dry, but he had so much pent-up emotion that he needed to pour it out over Harry. They kissed with abandon, not caring that all of Harry’s new things were rolling off the bed onto the floor. Ron was feeling the familiar pull of excitement in his groin, but he could tell Harry was distracted.

"Don’t you want to open your presents now?" asked Harry.

"If I have to choose between presents and you, I choose you," Ron answered breathlessly.

Harry looked at him with mock indignation. "Well even if you don’t want to open them, I want to see what you got." He smiled at Ron coyly. "Besides, I’m saving myself. I think we have another lesson later."

Ron smiled appreciatively, and grabbed Harry’s wand off the bedside table. "Accio," he said, lazily pointing the wand at a package on the end of his bed. It flew to his hands with a thud. Before long he too had a massive pile of gifts, many identical to Harry’s and others, like the dragonhide case from his brother Charlie, were quite unusual.

Ron pointed the wand to retrieve a large, long rectangular box, but Harry said quickly, "No, open that one last." Ron grinned at him, knowing now that it was from Harry, and opened a self-inking quill from Hermione instead.

Finally the large box was the only gift remaining unopened. Harry looked nervous and excited. Ron couldn’t have cared less what was in it – he was sure that anything Harry gave him would be his best Christmas present ever. He unwrapped the paper and carefully opened the box. As the contents came into view, Ron let out an audible gasp. He blinked several times, speechless and paralyzed with shock.

At last he let out a hoarse whisper, "Harry, you can’t give me this…it’s a Firebolt!"

Harry nodded anxiously, "Yes, it is. And it’s for you. Happy Christmas!"

Ron, whose family had been poor his whole life, had never received an expensive gift like this. He was sure Harry hadn’t meant to spend this much on him. He should be saving his money, or spending it on himself. He looked at the Firebolt once more and ran his fingers lightly over the dark wood of the handle, lingering on the shining golden serial number near the top. A Firebolt! Ron swallowed hard and stared at Harry. "I can’t accept this, Harry. It’s too expensive."

Harry had been expecting Ron to be somewhat shocked when he opened the box, but he’d never expected his gift to be refused. Without thinking, words shot out of his mouth in anger. "Ron, I have a whole damn vault at Gringott’s filled with galleons and I probably won’t live long enough to spend a quarter of them. If I can’t go out an buy a Firebolt for the one I love, than what’s the point in even having them?"

There was a deafening silence between them. Harry was still angry, looking hurt and breathing heavily. But Ron seemed to have heard only four words in the whole tirade, and was trying desperately to process them.

It came as quite a surprise to Harry when he said, "The one you love? Are you saying you love me?"

There was another brief silence while Harry tried to remember exactly what he’d shouted at Ron. Damn, how had he let that slip? Trapped by his own words and unwilling to take them back because they were true, he weakly replied, "Er…yeah." Harry was still breathing heavily, but his anger had abated.

A huge wave of relief washed over Ron, however, as suddenly all the pieces clicked into place and he truly understood for the first time how things were between them. Harry wasn’t just a mate who leaned queer and was exploring the possibilities with someone he could trust. Harry was with Ron because he was in love with him. And now he felt sure the feeling like hunger that he couldn’t identify must also be love. He must be in love with Harry!

"What a relief!" exclaimed Ron cheerfully. "I was thinking it was just me!" Harry heaved a relaxed sigh as Ron pulled him close and showered his cheek and neck and earlobe with tiny kisses.

"So you’re going to keep the Firebolt?" asked Harry tentatively.

"Are you mad? Of course I’m going to keep it! Merlin – a Firebolt! Harry, this is the nicest thing I’ve ever owned in my whole life. Thank you. Oh, thank you so much!" Ron was gushing over the new broom and it was Harry’s turn to watch in amazement as Ron, whose eyes were on the verge of leaking tears of joy, tried to sort out how he had been fortunate enough to be selected to own this broom.

Harry glanced at the clock. "Let’s go have something to eat. I’m starving."

"All right," Ron answered. "But after breakfast you have to let me show you proper gratitude for my Firebolt." He leaned over and whispered into Harry’s ear rather explicitly what he was planning to do to him to show his appreciation.

Predictably, the fire of Harry’s lust burned right through his brilliant green eyes and he growled, "We’ll make it quick then."

 

* * * * *

 

Ron’s expression of gratitude nearly made them late for Christmas Dinner. Harry and Ron burst into the Great Hall just after the faculty had joined the other students. The long house tables were resting against the sides of the hall, and the staff table had been expanded to seat about twenty-five. A great centerpiece made from evergreens and adorned with fairy lights, glittering tinsel and golden ornaments rested in the middle of the table. The enchanted ceiling was a vivid blue with wispy white clouds floating carelessly from corner to corner. Dumbledore motioned Harry and Ron to two empty seats on his right and they mumbled quick apologies for their tardiness as they sat down.

Dumbledore addressed the company with a spirited, strong voice. "Isn’t it marvelous that we can have such a merry celebration on Christmas Day? I trust that you all enjoyed a few presents this morning. I, myself, received the thing I’ve been coveting for years from an anonymous giver – a delightful pair of warm woolen socks." His eyes twinkled at Harry over his half moon glasses, but he said no more about it. "And now, without further ado, let us tuck in."

Enormous platters of turkey, enhanced with the aroma of sausage, onion and sage, magically appeared on the table, with side dishes of potatoes and vegetables and roasted chestnuts. Ron, who had always sported a healthy appetite, became self-conscious as he reached for his third large helping of turkey and saw Professor McGonagall looking down her nose at him. When Harry helped himself to thirds as well, Ron felt better.

As the din around the table got louder, Dumbledore said quietly to Harry, "Professor Snape seems to believe that your Occlumency skills are coming along."

Harry turned his face to Dumbledore and shot him a doleful expression. "Did he happen to mention that he terrified his entire NEWT class as he was discovering this? They’re all convinced he’s going to start breaking into their minds."

Dumbledore chortled. "I suspect that was the only consolation he could find in the whole episode." He took a long draught from his golden goblet. "And the rest of your studies?"

Harry summarized his progress with his various tutors. "I am feeling comfortable with the theory, sir, but am nervous about my obvious lack of practical experience."

"Perhaps you will have a chance to test your skills against a worthy opponent soon," mused Dumbledore, vaguely.

Harry frowned. "What is that supposed to mean, Professor?"

"It means that should you happen to find yourself in a…situation…where you have an opportunity to hone your new skills, I would expect you to seize upon it. I have no doubt that a small detail such as breaking a school rule would not stand in your way." Dumbledore’s blue eyes shimmered with amusement. Harry knew from experience that the meaning of Dumbledore’s statement would become obvious at some point, but it would be useless to question him further.

Dumbledore made pleasant conversation with the young Hufflepuff Chaser, and Harry discreetly let his hand drop under the table where it searched frantically for Ron’s. Their fingers entwined as they carried on their separate conversations, but each was comforted by the touch of the other. Ron was engaged in a very technical discussion with Professor Flitwick about a charm that he was interested in learning. Harry was offering one of the Ravenclaw fifth-years the helpful advice of getting as much sleep as he could during the holidays since he would be doing nothing but revising for his OWLs for the remainder of the school year.

Before the Christmas cake was served, Dumbledore suddenly remembered the Crackers, which were hastily conjured and passed around. Harry turned to Dumbledore and offered him the other end of the one he was holding. Just as they were about to pull it, Dumbledore’s eyes caught a glimpse of Harry’s necklace, and it startled him. Harry, who was very confused, let go of the Cracker and it dropped to the floor.

"Harry," said Dumbledore slowly, "may I ask where you got this?" He reached out and lightly grasped the small amulet in his fingers.

"Oh!" exclaimed Harry, feeling relieved. "Ron gave this to me as a Christmas present. Cool, isn’t it, sir?"

"Would you mind if I examined it for a moment?" asked Dumbledore. Harry reached behind his neck and unfastened the clasp. He placed the necklace into Dumbledore’s outstretched hand.

"It’s not dangerous, is it? Ron says it’s called a Tyet of Isis – supposed to ward off evil," stammered Harry, nervously.

Dumbledore was inspecting the tiny red charm closely. "No," he said quietly, "it’s not dangerous at all. In fact, unless I’m much mistaken, this is a powerful magical object."

Dumbledore handed the necklace back to Harry, and Harry elbowed Ron in the back. Ron turned to look and saw Harry dangling the Tyet of Isis in front of his face, while Dumbledore watched.

"Ron," said Harry, excitedly, "Professor Dumbledore reckons that this is a powerful magical object!"

"I’d be most interested to know where you found it, Ron," said Professor Dumbledore.

Ron leaned forward in his chair and said, "I bought it in that new shop in Hogsmeade, Professor. You know, the one next to Gladrags Wizardwear…Baubles, or something like that. I don’t think the witch who runs the place really knew what she had, or she’d have known it was rare. It was mixed in with all the junk jewelry." Ron blushed a little, confessing that he had been browsing in the cheap section of the shop.

"I daresay you’re correct," responded Dumbledore. He smiled benevolently at Harry and said, "Now, I do believe we have some unfinished business with a Cracker."

By the time they’d eaten their fill of Christmas dinner, Ron and Harry could barely move. They walked lethargically up to the Gryffindor Tower, but didn’t have the energy to climb the stairs to their dormitory, so they sat side by side on the couch by the fire. Soon, the two second-year girls joined them. The girls seemed quite anxious to strike up a conversation with Harry, who was either far too polite or far too tired to do anything to discourage this. Ron watched with amusement as the blonde worked especially hard to make a memorable impression on Harry. Ron was sure she imagined herself to be a mature young woman, while everything about her body language screamed, "I’m twelve!" He wondered how Harry managed to be such a good sport about all the unwanted attention, and then remembered that Harry hadn’t always been so nice about it. Eventually the blonde gave up and the two girls retired to their dormitory.

"Oh, the hearts that would break if our story ever got out!" Ron teased.

"Shut it," replied Harry, "or you’ll get us found out." He stared blankly into the fire for a moment, and then asked, "Ron, what were you and Flitwick on about at dinner? It sounded like he was tutoring you."

Ron stood up quickly. "Oh! Thanks for reminding me." He bolted up the stairs, leaving Harry sitting alone and mystified.

A minute later he returned, hauling his book bag in one hand and Standard Book of Spells – Advanced Edition in the other. Ron sat down next to Harry and began flipping through his book. Finally he found the correct page. He handed the book to Harry and emptied the contents of his book bag onto the floor.

Harry perused the page to which Ron had opened his book. It was an enlargement spell to expand the inside of an inanimate object without changing its external properties. "Is this the spell your dad used on the Ford Anglia?" asked Harry curiously.

"I think so," answered Ron. "Flitwick says it’s commonly used, but it almost never comes up in the NEWT exams so he wasn’t planning to cover it in class." Ron took the book back from Harry and began reading. He practiced the wand motion silently and mouthed the incantation several times. At last, he was ready to try it.

Ron pointed his wand at his book bag and as he performed the complicated movement, he said, "Dilato suppellexus." The bag now had twice its previous capacity, but was bulging on one side. "I don’t think it’s supposed to bulge like that. I’m going to try it again." The second time he managed to work it properly and seemed quite pleased.

"Harry, d’you see what this means?" he asked excitedly.

Harry looked at him dubiously. "It means you can bring twice as many books back from the library."

Ron sighed. "No, it means we can enchant our beds to be big enough for two!" He bent down and jammed his things easily into his now-roomy book bag. When he looked up at Harry’s face, Ron was pleased to see him beaming.

 

* * * * *

 

Boxing Day brought another pick-up Quidditch game, and all the players were suitably impressed by the addition of the new weapon on Harry and Ron’s team – Ron’s new Firebolt. Now that there were two Firebolts among the players, they redrew the teams to split them up. As Harry had expected, the Firebolt increased Ron’s confidence tremendously, which Harry felt had always been the weakest part of his game. Ron’s play was inspired, and he held Harry’s team to only ten points until Harry caught the Snitch to end the game.

Professor McGonagall was waiting for Harry as they returned to the castle. "Might I have a word with you, Mr. Potter?" she asked. When Harry nodded, she led him up the stairs to her office, so Ron made his way to the Gryffindor Tower alone. He sat on his bed, which would now comfortably sleep two, and polished the smudge marks off his Firebolt.

He was brooding again, and he knew it. For one thing, he hated to lose at Quidditch, even though it would not have been possible for him to play any better than he did today. He was also cross because he wished he could have given Harry something as excellent as a Firebolt, but as it was, he’d had to borrow from Ginny just to get the rubbish he’d bought. He knew he’d never be able to compete with Harry’s vault full of gold at Gringott’s, but next to a Firebolt, Ron’s little amulet seemed so lame! At least Dumbledore thought it was authentic and not some worthless trinket, but that was little consolation. What did Harry possibly see in him, anyway?

Ron didn’t notice Harry enter the room until he heard him say, "Oh no. Is it safe to be in here with you?" Ron just glared at him, so Harry continued, "You’ve got that cross look on your face, and I’m not sure that I want to be on the receiving end of your temper right now."

"No, I’m all right. It’s not fair to take it out on you anyway. So...what did McGonagall want?"

Harry sat down on the bed facing Ron. "She told me Dumbledore is making arrangements for me to take my Apparation Test next week. I’ve got less than a week to prepare for it. Oh, and in my free time, I have four extra lessons lined up for next week as well. Some holiday this is going to be."

"I’ll help you train for the test. I’ve only had a chance to Apparate a few times since I got my license last August, but it’s pretty easy once you know the basics. Where are you supposed to practice, though?" Ron looked up, grinning, "Apparently it says in Hogwarts, A History that you can’t Apparate and Disapparate on the Hogwarts grounds."

"Yes, I think I’ve heard that once or twice. I suppose McGonagall will have to give us permission to leave the school grounds, won’t she?" said Harry, thoughtfully.

Ron’s eyes were gleaming as he said, "I’m thinking that we might have to practice Apparating from the main gate to The Three Broomsticks. And we might just have to warm up with a hot butterbeer while we’re in the neighborhood...." The thought seemed to cheer him up quite a bit. Actually, just being with Harry had the effect of cheering him up, and he was nearly out of his bad temper.


	4. THE TYET OF ISIS

"What time were you supposed to meet Hagrid?" asked Ron, who was sitting cross-legged on Harry’s bed reading Harry’s _1998 Guide to the International Association of Quidditch_ while Harry did some last minute revising for his Apparation Test.

"We’re taking a portkey from Dumbledore’s office at ten o’clock." Harry glanced at the clock. "I suppose I’d better head over there soon."

Harry slung his long legs over the edge of the bed and leaned over to tie the laces on his trainers. Ron scooted over to sit beside him, affectionately putting one arm around his shoulders.

"You’ll be fine," said Ron, reassuringly. "You’ve practiced hard, and you haven’t managed to splinch yourself yet!" Harry stood up and so did Ron. "Here, I’ll walk over there with you." Harry looked at him gratefully, and they kissed before descending the steps to the common room.

Dumbledore and Hagrid were approaching from the opposite direction as Harry and Ron reached the stone gargoyle leading to Dumbledore’s office. They looked to be deep into a serious conversation and stopped talking abruptly as soon as they saw Harry and Ron waiting. 

Dumbledore broke into a cheerful smile. "Ah, here you are, right on time. Let us proceed then. Mr. Weasley, why don’t you join us and see your friends off." Ron nodded appreciatively and followed the others up the moving staircase.

Ron had only been inside Dumbledore’s office twice before, and it was always a treat to see the interesting and rare artifacts and magical devices in its confines. As they entered, Ron noticed the portraits surreptitiously peeking at them while feigning sleep or disinterest. Fawkes stood quietly on his perch, but when he saw Harry, he warbled a few strange, but eerily beautiful notes. Ron watched as Dumbledore reached for something behind his desk and returned to them holding an old watering can. He set it on the corner of his desk, pulled out his wand and chanted, " _Portus_." As he did so, a stream of blue light burst from his wand, and the watering can wriggled a bit before finally going still.

Dumbledore looked down at his strange watch, a complicated affair that had twelve hands, and announced, "The portkey is set to leave in one minute. Harry, are you ready for your test?"

"Yes, sir," muttered Harry, barely looking up from the watering can.

"Good! Well then, you’ll be landing in the main entry of the Ministry of Magic. Hagrid, you’ll need to leave this watering can with the security guard - let him know that it is your portkey back to Hogwarts. It is set to return here at two o’clock. Do try to make it on time. If you miss it, you’ll have to take the watering can up to the Department of Magical Transportation on the fourth floor and ask them to reset it, which will annoy them greatly, I am sure. Any questions before you go?"

Harry and Hagrid shook their heads and looked nervously at each other. Neither was fond of portkey travel, but it did seem to make sense as the preferred method of transportation to London. Harry glanced at Ron who was smiling at him. "Good luck, mate," he said quietly to Harry. Harry nodded.

A small hand on Dumbledore’s watch moved, and he said, "It’s time. Farewell!" Harry and Hagrid touched the watering can and, a few moments later, they disappeared.

Ron watched the empty space where Harry and Hagrid had been for several seconds, thanked Professor Dumbledore, and then moved toward the door. The sound of Dumbledore’s voice called him back.

"Ron, if I might have a word with you.... There is a matter of some importance we need to discuss." Ron turned immediately and approached Dumbledore’s desk. He couldn’t imagine any matter, big or small, that he might have needed to discuss with Dumbledore.

"Of course, Professor." Dumbledore offered him a chair and a cup of tea, both of which he accepted. He felt that if Dumbledore was offering tea, he must not be in trouble for anything. Ron watched Dumbledore conjure two cups of tea and, after handing him one of them across the desk, he sat back down and scratched his beard, as if looking for the proper way to broach the topic. Finally, he spoke.

"Certain things have come to my attention recently," Dumbledore began, "which I feel will have a significant impact on the work of the Order of the Phoenix and our efforts to defeat Voldemort. Harry might have told you that we have a plan – and a good one, I think – but I have not believed until recently that we had all the pieces in place to execute it successfully."

He paused, and Ron wondered exactly why Dumbledore felt a need to tell him this. But he kept quiet and listened respectfully.

Dumbledore continued, "I can’t be sure that the missing component has been identified unless I receive honest answers to what I’m sure you’ll believe to be embarrassing and prying questions. I can promise that, in exchange for your candor, you will receive a full explanation of this part of the plan, as well as complete confidentiality regarding anything you tell me. The topic, as you might have guessed, concerns the relationship between you and Harry." 

Ron felt his face flush, and he avoided looking at Dumbledore’s eyes, which were now fixed on him. He tried to stay calm, but he knew he didn’t want to have this conversation and was starting to panic. Not knowing what else to do, he muttered, "Okay."

"You and Harry have been great friends for a long time, have you not?" Dumbledore asked.

Ron’s throat had become very dry. "Yes, sir. We met on the Hogwarts Express coming here as first-years." He took a swallow of tea, but it only helped for a moment.

"And would it be correct of me to presume that the two of you have gotten quite a bit closer recently?"

Ron didn’t know what to say. He could feel his face burning under the pressure, and he was sure that Dumbledore would be able to tell if he lied. He glanced at Dumbledore who was serenely waiting for a response, watching Ron battle with himself over the top of his half moon glasses. "Er, yes, Professor," he choked, finally.

Ron had hoped his answer would satisfy Dumbledore, and was horrified when he continued the line of questioning. "Forgive the impropriety of this question, but I assure you it is relevant. Are you and Harry lovers, perhaps?"

Ron was sure his face was now purple. He was mortified that Dumbledore had somehow found out about them. They were going to be in so much trouble. He wondered whether students got expelled for having sex. No, half the school would have been expelled by now if that were true. Maybe if he tried to explain how it was between Harry and him, Dumbledore would let them off easy…

Summoning his Gryffindor courage, he started speaking in a panicked voice he hardly recognized as his own. "You see, Professor, we didn’t mean for anything to happen, it just did. And then we fell in love…"

Dumbledore held up his hand, gesturing Ron to stop talking. Gratefully, Ron closed his mouth. "You have told me all I need to know to confirm my earlier suspicions," said Dumbledore, gazing kindly at Ron. "And if it’s any consolation, dear boy, I doubt that there has ever been a wizard in love whose heart has not led him down a path that his brain strongly advised against. Yet it has always been my belief that when one has the capacity to love deeply, he ought to use it, by all means."

"Professor Dumbledore," Ron asked sheepishly, "how did you know about Harry and me? Have we been that obvious?"

Dumbledore smiled. "I do not believe you have been obvious to anyone else, although it is highly unusual for one student to give another an international standard racing broom. Actually, it was the amulet that you gave Harry that tipped me off to the possibility. Then, knowing what I was looking for, I was able to discern it from your eyes."

Ron was completely confused. Harry’s amulet? But he might have given that to Harry even if they weren’t lovers. His confusion must have shown because Dumbledore continued, "I can see that I shall have to start at the beginning in order for this to make any sense to you."

"Before I begin, Ron, I must impress upon you the need for complete secrecy. I have made sure these many years that no one person, save myself, has enough information to endanger my plan for the destruction of Voldemort. His powers to persuade are legendary, and it is my belief that he has become even stronger since he returned. Even the bravest and most trustworthy person cannot be expected to resist his tortures should he attack them. I will, therefore, tell you no more than you need to know, and ask that you not discuss the details with anyone else, not even Harry."

Ron nodded his head in agreement. He was struck by Dumbledore’s grave expression; the blue sparkle in his eyes was now replaced by a frightening intensity. This was serious business, whatever it was, and Ron sat very still, giving Dumbledore his rapt attention.

"Good," said Dumbledore. "You might recall a certain prophecy that Voldemort was quite anxious to obtain from the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry." Ron nodded. "The record of that prophecy was destroyed, but since it was spoken to me, I am quite familiar with its message. I shall not share it with you, but I will tell you that it confirms beyond a doubt that Harry, and no other, must play a central role in the defeat of Voldemort once and for all. This prophecy was made just prior to Harry’s birth by none other than Professor Trelawney."

Ron snorted in disbelief and surprise. "You’re joking, aren’t you?"

The twinkle returned to Dumbledore’s eyes. "I agree it seems hard to believe. It will also surprise you to learn that she spoke a second prophecy, much later, to Harry. It was after a Divination exam, the day the true identity of your pet rat was revealed and we learned the truth about Sirius Black. That prophecy correctly predicted the return of Peter Pettigrew to Voldemort, and Voldemort’s return to power."

Ron was dumbfounded. Who would have believed that Professor Trelawney was actually able to predict something useful? It explained why she was allowed to continue on the Hogwarts staff – Dumbledore surely wouldn’t want her wandering around blabbing predictions about Voldemort to anyone other than himself.

"Then there was a third prophecy, about which no one knows except myself and my brother Aberforth. Last summer, you see, Professor Trelawney went to the Hogs Head Inn and got into a bit too much sherry. Aberforth took her to one of the rooms to sleep it off, and sent an owl asking me to come and collect her. When we entered her room she was sitting upright on the bed, and we saw her utter the prophecy." 

Dumbledore got up and walked to the black cabinet where he kept his pensieve. Ron had never seen the pensieve before, although he’d heard Harry mention it a few times. He watched as Dumbledore took the seat behind his desk again, raised his wand to his forehead, and deposited a few long silver strands of a shimmering substance into its stone bowl. "Watch closely," Dumbledore said, as he prodded the strands with the tip of his wand.

A ghostly image of Sibyll Trelawney, with her bug-like glasses, bangles and shawls, emerged out of the pensieve and rotated above the bowl. Ron watched as the figure opened her mouth, and bristled as the deep, rough, unnatural voice issued forth.

 

He who would try to vanquish the Dark Lord will himself have a Protector…The Protector shall be a brave and loyal friend and a cherished lover… The Protector shall save his life, and as long as the bond of true love remains unbroken, he shall be protected…

 

The image of Professor Trelawney collapsed back into the pensieve. Ron stared at the shimmering threads moving restlessly in the bowl. He was stunned. Was Dumbledore saying that this Protector was…him? He looked questioningly into Dumbledore’s face. Dumbledore nodded, as if to confirm the answer to his unasked question.

"You see the dilemma I’ve been in," continued Dumbledore. "I have not wanted to set my plan into action knowing that Harry could have a Protector somewhere who had not yet been revealed." He smiled again at Ron. "I had rather thought it might be Miss Granger, but I believe you’ll perform admirably."

Ron’s brain seemed to be working in slow motion. This couldn’t be right. He was just a bit player in the drama of Harry’s life – the faithful sidekick and comic relief. And now, was he going to have to be constantly on guard for all the things that could harm Harry? If Voldemort was going to attack Harry, how in the world was Ron going to protect him? The questions and doubts flooded into his mind, and he caught himself swaying in his chair as the turmoil embraced him.

Dumbledore poured Ron more tea, giving him time to collect his wits. Again, as if reading Ron’s mind, he said, "This is a serious and vital role you which has been presented to you. Any plan leading to Voldemort’s downfall is highly dangerous, and Harry will be thrust right into the midst of it. The first prophecy did not predict which of the two would be victorious, only that they would battle. I’d like to believe the existence of a Protector on Harry’s side is a good sign. But you will need to consider very seriously whether you are willing to risk everything to protect Harry."

Ron replied immediately, "Of course I am." Dumbledore looked surprised, so Ron continued. "When my little sister was trapped in the Chamber of Secrets, Harry didn’t hesitate to risk everything to save her. When he thought the Death Eaters had Sirius trapped in the Department of Mysteries, we all went to save him, because…we just felt that’s what had to be done. If you think for one minute that I could willingly sit by and watch Harry fight Voldemort without helping…well, I couldn’t. He’d do the same for me, no questions asked."

Dumbledore stared into Ron’s eyes for a long while, and surmised that Ron was determined to fulfill the role of Protector. When at last he stood up again, he strode over to a tall bookcase full of leather-bound volumes. He selected one of the books and returned to his chair. "Which brings us back to the Tyet of Isis." He flipped through the pages of the book until he found what he was looking for. Ron inched forward in his chair, trying to view the page of the book. "How much do you know," asked Dumbledore, "about Isis?"

"Not all that much, to be honest, sir. I know that she was a goddess in the ancient Egyptian religion and that she ruled magic and witchcraft and could offer protection."

"Isis is one of the most powerful spirits in the mystical religion. She has multiple aspects, which, it is claimed, rule nearly every positive force in our world. Now, as you know, we do not pursue religious study here at Hogwarts, but I daresay there are many respectable witches and wizards who follow a mystic slant in their magic, and magical mysticism has certainly proved to be a powerful force among those who choose to use it.

"According to this text, the amulet is the primary magical charm of Isis. In order to invoke her protection, an incantation must be said over it once it has been properly prepared." Dumbledore looked up from the book to Ron. "I gather no such incantation has been done on Harry’s charm."

"No, Professor. I had no idea I needed to do anything to it."

Dumbledore folded the corner of the page, closed the book and handed it to Ron. "I believe the mechanism by which you will be Harry’s Protector is through this Tyet of Isis. Isis also happens to be the Goddess of Love. According to this book, when a lover invokes Isis through the amulet on behalf of his beloved, the protection to the wearer channels through the lover and combines their magic as a protective force. Another risk, of which you ought to be aware, is the possibility that the protective force required by Harry might be so great as to drain you of enough magic to kill you."

"I’ll risk it," interrupted Ron.

"Then I suggest you study this volume and empower the charm as soon as possible. There are rumblings afoot that Voldemort is planning his next wave of terror even as we speak. I do not know the exact timing of our counterattack, but I can assure you that it is not far off. Read the instructions in that book carefully. I believe Professor Sprout will be able to help you obtain the supplies you need from the greenhouses. You may tell her I have given my permission."

Dumbledore appeared to be finished with Ron, but Ron was full of questions that demanded answers. "Professor Dumbledore, when that prophecy predicted I’d save Harry’s life, did it mean that I’ve already saved his life and that _proves_ I’m the Protector, or will I save his life in the future _because_ I am the Protector?"

"I’m afraid I can’t answer that. True, you’ve already had some adventures together that could be argued to have saved Harry’s life – even that incident several weeks ago where you found him unconscious outside. But there is no doubt in my mind that there are other encounters still to come between Voldemort his supporters, and Harry. Your role in those future events cannot now be known by us."

"And, if I might ask," Ron said quickly, "does the prophecy mean that, er, Harry and I were always intended to be together? I mean, was this our…destiny?"

Dumbledore smiled. There was nothing quite so refreshing as the irrational logic of a young wizard in love. "You’ll notice, Ron, that the prophecy is vague enough to have applied to many individuals. Even the first prophecy, about Harry, could have been about someone else if Voldemort had not attempted to kill him as a baby. You see, predicting the future is always complex, and the actions of others and ourselves can greatly influence the eventual outcome."

"Just one more question, Professor," pleaded Ron. Dumbledore nodded. "How much of this should I tell Harry? You said you didn’t want me to tell anyone, but if I activate the amulet, he’s got to know what to do with it, doesn’t he?"

Dumbledore considered this thoughtfully. "That is a fair point. I should think you could tell him about the Tyet of Isis – even show him the book if he seems interested. But it is important that _you_ should empower the amulet, not Harry, in order to truly protect him. As for the prophecy itself, I do not believe he needs to know of its existence until Voldemort has been defeated."

"All right," said Ron, rising from the chair and grasping the heavy volume in his hand.

Dumbledore stood up and came around his desk to where Ron stood. He put his ancient hand on Ron’s shoulder and they headed toward the door. "Now, as for you and Harry, I would recommend using the utmost discretion," he said with a gleam in his eyes. "We have enough drama at Hogwarts without a parade of disappointed girls moping around the hallways because the Boy Who Lived is no longer eligible."

Once out of Dumbledore’s office, Ron bolted back to the Gryffindor common room and sat down by the fire to read the book. He was so engrossed, he didn’t notice that lunchtime had come and gone, and was startled to see Harry’s head pop through the portrait hole several hours later.

* * * * *

"Oi, how did it go?" Ron asked as Harry sat next to him on the couch.

"Very well. I’ve got my license now and I hope I’ll never have to travel by floo powder again," answered Harry. "Oh, and we had lunch with your dad at the Ministry. He sends his love." Harry looked over at the book Ron had just set down. "What’s that?"

"Harry, you just won’t believe all I’ve learned about that Tyet of Isis. Dumbledore loaned me this book, and it seems there’s much more to it than we ever realized!" Ron went on to describe Isis, and details about benefits the Tyet of Isis would bestow upon the wearer. Ron pulled out the book and began showing relevant passages to Harry, who seemed totally overwhelmed by this new information.

"This is brilliant, Ron," said Harry a bit impatiently, "but I was really hoping we could spend some time upstairs…"

Ron interrupted him. "We can’t though, Harry. We need to go down to the greenhouse and have Professor Sprout show us how to make this flower-water stuff so we can prepare the amulet for the incantation. I was only waiting until you got back so I’d have some company."

"What's the big hurry?" pouted Harry. "It’s not like Voldemort is standing on the castle steps waiting to attack me."

Ron slipped into his well-honed Hermione impression. "Honestly, Harry, you never know when you’re going to need this. Don’t put it off till later, you big second rater!" Ron burst into laughter, and Harry chuckled as well.

"All right, then, we’ll go," sighed Harry. "But that means we get to do what I want to do later." 

Several minutes later they were on their way to the greenhouses, Ron clutching Dumbledore’s book in his hand. They found Professor Sprout in Greenhouse 3, where she had just finished pruning a flutterby bush. Ron showed her the section of the book devoted to preparation of the amulet, and she set about gathering the half-dozen required flowers. She loaned them a small cauldron and showed them how to properly separate petals and stems. 

They carried the flower-filled cauldron back to their room, where Ron filled it with water and spoke an incantation over it. He then removed the amulet from around Harry’s neck, took it from its chain, and immersed it in the flower-water. There it was to soak overnight.

By the time Ron finished his task, it was nearly time for dinner, and he was famished. He was feeling much better, though, knowing his important task would be completed by this time tomorrow. Now, he just had to keep Harry distracted so that he wouldn’t ask too many questions. Well, that would be easy.

* * * * *

"I’m not sure about this, Harry."

"Come on, Ron. You said I could choose what we do tonight. Besides, everyone will be coming back on Sunday – we don’t have much more time if you want to try it."

Ron was avoiding Harry’s eyes. He was extremely apprehensive about taking this next step. As much as he loved Harry, and as much as he wanted to make Harry happy, he was having a very difficult time getting his brain to accept the level of intimacy that Harry was suggesting. He just couldn’t ignore the loud voice in his head saying that only benders did this. He didn’t feel like he was gay, and he didn’t believe Harry was either, but if they actually shagged…

"You’re sure it isn’t going to hurt?" Ron said nervously.

Harry brushed Ron’s face lightly with his fingertips, and then lifted his chin so that he had no choice but to look into Harry’s brilliant green eyes. The lust burning through them was unmistakable, but so was the love. "We’ll take it slow, and if it makes you too uncomfortable, I’ll stop. Or, you could go first."

"No, I don’t think I could go first," replied Ron. He knew he should trust Harry. He let himself wonder for about the hundredth time what it would feel like for Harry to be inside of him. Ron pulled Harry into a passionate embrace, tasting Harry’s mouth with his tongue and gently sucking on his succulent lower lip. His body wanted it - that much was sure. Harry’s nimble fingers unbuttoned his shirt, and he felt the rush of cold air on his skin. Harry’s hands were roaming all over him, stimulating every little nerve on his exposed flesh. 

"No fair," he moaned. "You can’t expect me to think straight when you’re attacking me like this."

Harry trailed his tongue across Ron’s chest, where he had been lightly nibbling Ron’s right nipple, all the way up to his left ear lobe. "That’s the problem, Weasley," he whispered. "You think too much. Turn off your brain and just feel this."

After nearly two weeks of experimenting, Harry knew exactly what to do to persuade Ron. He felt guilty about resorting to these tactics for about five seconds, and then went to work. Clothes started flying every which way and the next thing Ron knew, he was naked and lying flat on his back on the bed. Harry’s lips were all over him, his hands caressing and massaging and exploring. Ron had no idea how he could be feeling so much pleasure from so many different body parts. Harry’s lips found their way back to his, and his tongue was flicking in and out of Ron’s mouth. _God, he was already right on the edge…_

He could hear Harry fumbling for something on the table next to the bed while his lips continued to greedily devour Ron’s. Then suddenly, Harry had moved, and his hands were gripping Ron’s arse and gently spreading his legs. A slimy finger was rubbing a moist substance around his anus, and trying to coax its way inside. Instinctively, Ron tightened his opening, and Harry began massaging the area around it with gentle strokes from his fingertips. Harry took Ron’s cock in his mouth while he did this, thinking the sucking would distract Ron from thinking about the manipulations his hands were performing. It seemed to work, because before long, Harry was able to slide his finger all the way inside. 

Ron was still too tight for Harry to attempt to enter him, but as Harry wiggled his finger around, he found a spot that made Ron shriek. Harry stopped sucking and asked, "Are you all right?"

"Merlin, Harry, do that again!" was Ron’s response.

"Where…here?" Another lustful moan confirmed the location. Harry tried to insert another lubricated finger. "Relax, Ron. Let me do another one and I can reach the spot better." Ron exhaled, and as he did, he became more relaxed. Ron was rewarded with direct stimulation to his prostate, which left him writhing and moaning with pleasure.

Now that Ron was seeing the obvious benefit to this particular activity, he became completely compliant to Harry’s will. Harry repositioned their bodies, and slowly tried to enter Ron. More coaxing, some deep breaths, and he was in. Ron was almost too tight for comfort, but as Harry settled into a gentle rhythm, he could feel Ron give in to the sensation and relax. Harry shifted his position a bit, and he could tell from Ron’s gasp that he had found a good angle. He picked up the tempo and his movements became jerkier. With each thrust from Harry, Ron was crying out softly with delight – the initial discomfort having now been replaced with indescribable pleasure. Harry’s grunts of exertion now joined his own, and Ron opened his eyes to see Harry’s face contorted by the tension that was building in his groin. 

Wanting more and knowing the effect his words would have on Harry, Ron called out, "Oh…please, Harry…fuck me…fuck me harder…that’s right, yes…"

Harry’s orgasm struck him like a well-hit Bludger. He had never known such ecstasy – never imagined that it could feel like this! It was as if seventeen years of tension had suddenly been released from every cell in his body. It came in waves, each one a little deeper than the one before. And when it finished, all Harry could do was let out a throaty little low-pitched giggle. He pulled out of Ron and kissed him, not with urgent, lustful need, but with a passion and love so deep that Ron thought Harry just might crawl right into his skin. 

"I love you, Ron," he said, opening his eyes just enough to gauge the reaction on Ron’s face.

"I love you too," whispered Ron.

For a couple of minutes they lay in each other’s arms, kissing, caressing and stroking. Harry had calmed down enough so he could no longer feel blood pulsing through his veins. His wandering hands discovered Ron’s lingering excitement, and remembered that Ron still needed some attention. He raised himself up on his elbow and asked, "Do you fancy a go?"

Ron considered this. "Tomorrow, I think. What I’d really like now…"

"I know exactly what you’d like," interrupted Harry. And he proceeded to work his magic on Ron until he, too, was completely knackered.

* * * * *

They had shifted to Ron’s bed, which was considerably drier, and were snuggled together, each boy enjoying the feeling of his bare skin against the other. They had extinguished the candles and pulled closed the bed hangings to ward off the draft from the dormitory window. The gentle movement of Harry’s arm across Ron’s chest indicated that Harry was still awake, but they had said nothing for a long while.

Ron finally spoke. "You were incredible, Harry. I’m sorry I made us wait so long."

Harry’s voice was muffled by Ron’s shoulder. "Mmmm. You were worth the wait. And tomorrow you can find out what else you’ve been missing."

"Harry," Ron asked curiously, "how did you know exactly what to do? You seemed quite sure of yourself, and you had that slimy stuff and all…"

Ron could feel a wide smile spread across Harry’s face that was still nestled against his shoulder. Harry rolled onto his side and said, "Justin Finch-Fletchley."

Ron’s eyes opened wide, but he could see nothing in the darkness. "Blimey, Harry, you and he didn’t…"

"No, we didn’t. But, you know he begs me for sex at least once a week," started Harry.

Ron interrupted, "Once a week? A bit keen, isn’t he?"

"Don’t be impressed. Everyone knows he bats for both sides and he’ll fuck anyone who’s willing."

"Maybe, but he’s only asked me once."

"He says I have a nice bum…"

"You do."

"Anyway, as I was saying, a few weeks ago Justin asked me and I told him ‘no’ again, but said I was curious. He agreed to tell me exactly what he would do if I ever said ‘yes’, as long as I would watch him have a wank while he told me."

"Ew, I did not need to know that," said Ron, with disgust.

"Sorry," replied Harry. "But it was worth it because I learned a lot. I kept asking really detailed questions so he would get more explicit and I think he thought I was just trying to get a good mental image. Even told me which brand of lube to buy and where to buy it."

"Where _did_ you buy it?" asked Ron in amazement.

"Chemist’s in Hogsmeade. I figured you’d say yes eventually, so I bought it last time we were there."

"Merlin, Harry, with Justin talking to you like that and him wanking, you must have…"

"Bloody creamed my pants!" exclaimed Harry. "So now, in Justin’s mind, we’ve as good as had sex together. But at least I didn’t have to touch him, so I won’t catch a disease or anything."

"Harry, you’re a right little tart. What are you going to do next time Justin asks you?" sniggered Ron.

"I’ve got it all worked out," said Harry. "I’ve bought him a tube of MagicGlide and I’ll tell him we’re even."

* * * * *

When Harry burst through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room at ten o’clock the next morning, he was fuming. He collapsed into the nearest armchair, clutching his head and swearing angrily under his breath.

"Rough lesson?" asked Ron, looking up from his Charms homework.

"I can’t believe it," stormed Harry. "Dumbledore has decided that I’m far enough along in Occlumency now to take my lessons from Snape. He thinks the challenge of keeping Snape out of my thoughts is closer to what I’ll experience if I encounter Voldemort. I’ve just had my worst lesson in two years, and my head is pounding."

"He didn’t, er, find out anything…about us, I mean," said Ron, hesitantly.

"No," snarled Harry, "but he was looking for it. Bastard. I had to block him with a _Protego_ charm, but now he knows there’s something I’m trying to hide. And I’m supposed to repel him without using my wand, so now he thinks I’m an idiot."

Ron stood up from the table and walked over to Harry. He massaged the tense muscles in Harry’s neck for a short while and then said, "Why don’t you have a kip upstairs for a bit? I’ll wake you up when I finish this assignment."

"Yeah, I think I will," answered Harry, getting up from the armchair. "I’ve got to get rid of this headache or I’ll be useless all day."

Ron grinned at him. "Oh, I shouldn’t like that – I’ve got several good uses in mind for you." He watched Harry disappear up the dormitory steps and turned his attention to the table where his Charms homework was spread out.

About fifteen minutes passed before Ron realized he’d been looking at the words in the book but not comprehending a single one. Knowing that Harry was upstairs in bed was way too distracting. Ron allowed his mind to drift, thinking of how much things had changed between Harry and himself over the holidays. They’d had some variation of sex every day, slept in the same bed together nearly every night, and admitted that they loved each other. Ron had discovered that he was Harry’s Protector, and he wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but he knew for certain that he would need to maintain the bond of true love with Harry in order to protect him. 

It was going to be a problem, though, when everyone else returned to Hogwarts. He was so horny all the time – all this sex seemed to make him more so, not less. And every time Harry gave him "the look" he wanted to jump his bones. Well, no…he wanted to jump his bones all the time. Like now, just the thought of what they might be doing later was making him hard. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair. What Ron had failed to consider, when he was busy developing his clever plan to be together with Harry, is that they would want to continue to enjoy each other on a regular and frequent basis. He hadn’t counted on the fact that he would become addicted to Harry’s body, Harry’s soft lips on his skin, or that moment of utter bliss when his body is completely overcome with pleasure. They had just two days before their lives became very complicated. 

_Dammit,_ thought Ron. Even if they did manage to avoid discovery by their schoolmates, they’d both fail their coursework due to their inability to concentrate. Ron shoved his books aside and headed up the stairs. He quietly peeked into the dormitory to see if Harry was asleep. He could see Harry through his partially open bed hangings, lying on his back and stripped to the waist. Ron crept to the bed and examined his face – Harry had removed his glasses, and his eyes were closed. His hair had fallen away from his forehead so that his lightning bolt scar was plainly visible. The tension Ron had noticed around his eyes earlier had melted away, and his lips were pressed lightly together in a tantalizing pout. 

Ron reached forward to gently stroke Harry’s cheek, but just before he made contact, Harry said, "About time," causing Ron’s startled heart to leap to his throat. 

"Don’t _do_ that!" gasped Ron, whose heart was now pounding rapidly. 

"Sorry. I was just expecting you to have given up at least ten minutes ago. Did you finish your work?"

Ron lay down on his side next to Harry; his head propped up with one hand so he could watch Harry’s face. "You’ve got to be kidding. I read the same page fifteen times while trying to decide if you really had a headache," replied Ron. "So do you?"

Harry grinned and flashed Ron the lustful look again. "Now my other head is throbbing, mate." 

That was all the invitation that Ron needed. With wild enthusiasm he dropped his clothing into a heap on the floor and removed what remained of Harry’s. The two of them rolled around like charged up cubs fighting to see who would dominate this time. Ron finally won when he purred into Harry’s ear, "I think the time has come for me to shag the famous Harry Potter. Would you like that, Harry?" Harry’s eyes brightened and without words he let Ron know he was eager to try it.

Harry definitely benefited from Ron having been on the receiving end the night before and having had a while to think about it. Ron pretty much imitated what Harry had done, but he was much more aggressive. For Harry, the sensation was mind-blowing. It wasn’t long before Harry was begging Ron for more, just as Ron had begged him. Ron was only too happy to comply. He felt Harry reach down and grab his own dick, pulling it expertly. Ron hovered on the edge of his orgasm as long as he could stand it, trying to give Harry time for his excitement to catch up. Finally he could hold back no longer, but the feeling of Ron convulsing inside him set off Harry too. 

Ron’s heart was racing and he could feel beads of sweat on his brow. Between labored breaths, he whispered nonsense words of love into Harry’s ear. He wasn’t sure how he had expected it to feel, but it had felt better and more fulfilling than anything he could imagine. Sweet Harry. How could Ron ever deny him anything again? As they shifted to a more comfortable position, Ron gazed at Harry’s physique with loving admiration. Hundreds of witches, and probably a fair few wizards as well, would have given anything to be where Ron was right now. But Harry was his. They belonged to each other. And as long as the bond of true love remained unbroken, Harry would be protected. _Well, that will be my dying day_ , thought Ron.

* * * * *

The late afternoon sun was casting long shadows on the sprinkling of snow that still remained on the castle grounds. Harry held the great wooden door open for Ron as he hauled the heavy cauldron out into the courtyard where they usually took their breaks between lessons.

"I still don’t understand why we have to do this outside," muttered Harry.

Ron looked at him impatiently. "I told you – I’m going to have to light a fire under the cauldron and it sounds like the cauldron is going to shoot flames. With all the other things we’re going to be hiding from Seamus, Dean and Neville, we don’t need to add ‘having blown up their dormitory’ to the list."

"How long do you think it will take?" Harry asked.

"Probably about ten minutes. Unless I mess it up, in which case, your guess is as good as mine." Ron set the cauldron down on the pavement, and pulled Dumbledore’s book out of his pocket. He had read this section over and over since yesterday, but he was extremely nervous since so much was at stake. He sloshed his arm around in the cauldron and verified that the amulet was still at the bottom.

Fortunately, Harry was oblivious. For him, it was just a lark. It would be great if it worked, but he’d be able to take care of himself. He’d gotten past Voldemort enough times to know that any bit of protection could mean the difference between life and death, but if it came down to death, he was prepared.

"Right then," said Ron. "Ready."

"Yes, let’s get on with it," replied Harry, who was feeling rather foolish at all this fuss over the tiny amulet.

Following the instructions from the book, Ron lit a fire under the cauldron. The pale blue flame heated the water rapidly, and the steam rising from the top gave off a floral aroma that reminded them of Professor Trelawney’s classroom. When the water in the cauldron came to a boil, Ron held out his wand over it and said an incantation to summon the spirit of Isis to the amulet. Red sparks flew out of his wand, and the bubbling water turned amber, then became light as the color of champagne. Ron consulted the book again, and was relieved to see that he’d done right so far.

"Now, Harry, I need a couple of hairs from you," Ron said, looking up.

Harry yanked a few from his head and placed them into Ron’s outstretched hand. "I didn’t realize you were expecting me to sacrifice body parts for this," he said snidely. Ron glared at him and said nothing.

Ron dropped the hairs into the cauldron and they watched as orange flames shot up above the cauldron before dying out. The water was still boiling, and the bubbles looked like shimmering green crystals. Ron glanced over at Harry, who had gone totally white and looked as if he was about to faint.

"All right, Harry?" Ron asked with concern.

Harry sat down in the snow and put his head between his knees to try to keep from passing out. "Go on," he said weakly. "I’ll be fine in a minute."

Ron decided the best course was to finish this up as quickly as he could. If Harry did pass out, at least he wouldn’t hurt himself now that he was sitting. Ron quickly scanned the passage with the incantation and raised his wand above the cauldron again. He saw Harry look up as he clearly spoke the words, "The Blood of Isis, and the Strength of Isis, and the Words of Power of Isis shall be mighty to act as powers and protect Harry Potter, my beloved. They shall prevent wrong from being done to him." White sparks flew from Ron’s wand this time, and red flames flared. When the flames died down, Ron could see the water was a bright red.

He extinguished the flame underneath the cauldron, and sat down next to Harry, who was still very pale. Knowing they could be seen by anyone, and had possibly attracted some attention by shooting flames several meters into the air, Ron did not touch him, but whispered, "Harry? Are you okay?"

Harry looked into his eyes, and for the first time in ages, Ron saw fear. Merlin, what had this spell done to him? It was supposed to protect him, not scare the shit out of him. It was obvious that Harry had lost the ability to speak. Ron levitated the Tyet of Isis out of the cauldron, put it in his pocket and helped Harry to his feet. They went inside without speaking a word.

Ron directed Harry back to the common room and nudged him onto the couch by the fire. He noticed for the first time that Harry was shaking. Ron took his hand and spoke his name, and without warning, Harry broke out of his trance.

"That incantation," he said, staring blankly into space, "was nearly identical to the one Voldemort used to come back. He said the spell was of his own making, and the words were different, but the flames, and the water glittering like diamonds…it was just the same."

_Bloody hell – nice work Weasley_ , thought Ron _. Instead of protecting the boy, why not remind him of one of his top three nightmares!_ Ron remembered seeing Harry in the hospital wing after he had witnessed Voldemort’s rebirth. He recognized the haunted, hollow look in his eyes as the same he had worn then. Ron had no idea what to do, so he put his arms around Harry and held him tight, hoping like hell that the Gryffindor girls were far away. He gently whispered, "It’s okay, Harry. He can’t hurt you now. I’ll protect you."

Harry sighed deeply. "I’m sorry," he said at last. "It was my own stupid joke about sacrificing body parts that reminded me. I wasn’t prepared for that memory and it caught me off guard. I’m fine."

Ron seriously doubted this, but Harry seemed quite anxious to drop the matter, so they did. Ron dug into his pocket and pulled out the Tyet of Isis. They looked at it in the firelight and noticed that it now had a very faint glow when it caught the light at a particular angle. Harry put it back on its chain and Ron fastened it about his neck.

"Does it feel any different?" asked Ron.

Harry shook his head. "No. It feels just like it did yesterday."

They sat side-by-side watching the flames dance across the fireplace. Suddenly, Harry sat up straight and turned to Ron. "Ron, why was Dumbledore talking to _you_ about the Tyet of Isis and not me?"

As this question came totally out of the blue, the best Ron could do was sputter, "Oh, it just came up when I was leaving his office yesterday." Damn, he was a bad liar.

"But if he knew which book to give you, he must have read it, and he must have seen the section on empowering the amulet on behalf of the one you love… then…"

Ron interrupted, "Yes, Harry, he knows." Ron knew he must look terribly guilty.

"He knows…everything?" asked Harry in a panic.

Ron started rambling. "He guessed, and I couldn’t lie to him. You know I’m a bad liar and anyway, you said he can tell when people are lying to him so, er, I confirmed it." He looked uncomfortably at Harry. "But he seemed, er, pretty supportive, you know."

Harry stood up and began ranting, "Damn it, Ron! I know it’s not your fault, but I am so tired of living my life in a fish bowl where everyone is constantly watching my every move. Just once I’d like a little privacy!" As if on cue, the portrait hole opened and in walked the two second-year girls. "See?" stormed Harry, as he ran up the dormitory stairs in a huff, leaving Ron somewhat dumbfounded and the two girls thoroughly confused.

"He’s having a bad day," Ron said to them as he pursued Harry up the stairway.

 

Ron hesitated when he stepped into the dormitory. Dusk had fallen, and Harry had not lit any of the candles on the walls. He listened for Harry’s breathing but heard nothing. He waited, and then heard a faint rustle coming from Harry’s bed. Ron’s eyes became accustomed to the darkness, and he moved noiselessly into the room.

"Harry?" There was no answer. "Harry, are you in here?"

"Go away," said a steely cold voice that hardly sounded like Harry.

Ron approached Harry’s bed. The bed hangings were drawn, and Ron pushed them aside and poked in his head.

"You don’t listen very well, do you?" came Harry’s voice from under his pillow.

Ron smiled. "No, I don’t." He sat down on the bed beside Harry and began gently rubbing his back in what he hoped would be interpreted as a comforting gesture. Harry didn’t protest, so he continued. "Harry, mate, I’m so sorry about dredging up that memory of You-Know-Who. I – I didn’t know…"

Harry uncovered his face and turned toward Ron. "Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong." He paused for a moment, trying to make out Ron’s features in the dark. He shook his head in disgust. "No, you’ve done everything right. It’s me. God, Ron, I’m such a prick."

"Sorry?"

Harry sat up and turned to face Ron. He fumbled for Ron’s hand in the darkness and, when he found it, entwined his fingers with Ron’s. "I thought I was so clever," said Harry quietly, "giving you that Firebolt for Christmas. It was kind of a thrill for me, you know? Let’s give Ron a Firebolt and see what he does. Oh, I knew you’d like it, and I really wanted you to have it, but make no mistake – it was no sacrifice for me to give it to you. Just spend some gold that I was lucky enough to inherit and for which I have no immediate need. 

"And when you gave me the amulet, I thought it was wonderful – endearing, sweet, even charming. But at the time, I had no idea what you were really giving me. It wasn’t until you did the incantation that I even understood what you were doing. And I just sat there and let you do it. You just committed yourself to saving my sorry arse, didn’t you, Ron? And all I gave you was a ruddy broomstick."

Ron was in shock. Of course he was going to protect Harry! Harry would protect him if his sorry arse needed saving… And since when is a Firebolt a ruddy broomstick? No, no, there was something else going on here. Harry was wallowing all right, but there had to be a deeper issue.

"Are you quite finished?" asked Ron. "Because I have a few things I need to say."

"Go ahead," said Harry, sulkily.

Ron took a deep breath, and his voice became very authoritative. "First off, I only got the amulet for you because I saw it in the shop and thought it would be cool if it could protect you somehow. I had no idea until yesterday that we were talking about serious magic and ‘saving your sorry arse’ as you said. But when I found out that there was a way that I could use it to protect you, yeah, of course I wanted to do it. Let’s think about why that would be… oh yeah, because I _love_ you. Don’t be thick, Harry. We have no future together if you’re a corpse. Secondly, I think the Firebolt is brilliant, and I love it, and I think it’s great if it gave you some kind of thrill to give it to me. Even if I didn’t love flying it, the fact that I have one and Malfoy doesn’t is worth twice the gold that you paid for it. Finally, Harry, there are many adjectives that would describe your arse, but ‘sorry’ isn’t one of them."

Harry’s grip tightened on Ron’s hand. "But, Ron, I should never have let you do that incantation. That magic…well, that type of magic, is so powerful that it could give Voldemort his body back. There’s a price to pay for magic that powerful. The force has to come from somewhere, and the book as much as said that the protection would be coming from you. What if it kills you?"

"The power of Isis channels _through_ me, I think. I don’t think it will affect me at all," replied Ron, who had no idea if that was true.

Harry was very agitated, though. "Ron, you don’t understand. People die when they try to protect me!"

_So that’s it_ , thought Ron. Sure, it all made sense. First Harry’s parents, then Sirius died trying to protect Harry. Add Cedric, who had the misfortune of intruding on Voldemort’s little rebirthing party, on top of that – no wonder the boy was going round the twist. 

"Not everyone – look at Dumbledore! Besides, I have a secret weapon that they didn’t have," said Ron, with a smile. "I have Isis, the Goddess of Luuuuv!" Retrieving his wand, Ron uttered, " _Lumos_ ," and looked at the clock. "Come on, Harry. The only thing I’m going to die from tonight is hunger if you don’t get your sorry arse off of that bed and moving to the Great Hall."

Harry rose to his feet and caught Ron in a heartfelt embrace. "Ron, you have no idea how much this means to me. I don’t even know what to say."

"Well, I never said that I wouldn’t let you show me a little gratitude," said Ron, mischievously. "But it will have to wait until later, because I’m starving."

 

* * *

A/N: References to the Tyet of Isis are based on the Egyptian goddess called Isis, who has been well researched by ancient Egyptian scholars. The description and incantations I use in this chapter are adapted from the unpublished book Invocation for Witches by Eileen Holland (© Eileen Holland, published on her website [www.open-sesame.com](http://www.open-sesame.com/)) on the page describing Isis. I have taken liberties, of course, in order to fit my story, but the material facts about Isis and the Tyet of Isis are Ms. Holland’s. If there is such a thing as magical mysticism, I am not aware of it, and the idea to blend JKR’s magical world with mysticism through the mechanism of Isis is my own. Some of the more interesting facts about Isis: she is, among many things, ruler of all serpents, and Sirius, the Dog Star, is the prime star of Isis which was sometimes considered to be the place where her soul resides.

 

 


	5. AN UNLIKELY ADVOCATE

Ron and Harry were reading, sitting facing each other from opposite ends of the couch, their stocking feet rubbing together where they met in the middle. They looked up from their books as the portrait hole opened and Gryffindor students, heavily laden with their belongings, poured into the room. Hermione entered, beaming, and ran over to them.

"Did you have a good holiday?" she asked quickly. Then, not waiting for an answer, she leaned over and gave Ron a hug. "Thanks for the candy and the earrings, Ron. See? I’ve got them on!" She pushed aside her bushy brown hair and sure enough, there they were – golden earrings in the shape of an ancient rune that he had been assured stood for friendship.

"You’re welcome," replied Ron. "And thanks for the quill – I’ve been wanting one for ages."

"Yes, thanks, Hermione. It’ll be dead useful," Harry chimed in.

Hermione turned now to Harry and hugged him as well. "I’ve no idea what to make of your gift, Harry."

"Did you like them?" he asked, his voice bright with excitement.

"Like them? Harry, they’re gorgeous! But, well…I mean, they’re a bit extravagant, aren’t they?" Her expression was very pleased, but cautious.

"What did you get her?" interrupted Ron loudly.

"He gave me a leather-bound set of the _Great Wizarding Events_ Series – all 17 volumes!" She grinned. "Everyone should have this to start their own library, but Harry, I’m stunned! Thank you _so_ much!"

Ron looked at her smugly. "Harry was feeling overly generous this year. He got me a Firebolt!"

"A Firebolt!" she squealed. Other students gathered nearby stared at them to see what all the excitement was about. She lowered her voice. "Harry, what is going on?"

Harry shrugged, saying, "I just wanted to give you nice things, that’s all. You never know where we’re all going to be a year from now, and … I just wanted to do this."

Ron thought this sounded a bit fatalistic, but Hermione looked relieved.

"Oh, well, I’m glad about that. I mean – please don’t take this the wrong way, Harry – but I was afraid that when you gave me such an expensive gift that you, er, well…you wanted to date me." She looked uncomfortable, not wanting to offend him, but wanting to clear the air right away.

"Hermione, if I were going to try to compete with Anthony Goldstein for your affection, buying you a set of expensive books wouldn’t be my first approach," said Harry, grinning mischievously. Hermione blushed. "Unless…would that work with you?" he teased.

"Honestly, Harry, I’m not discussing this with you!" Hermione exclaimed, blushing even more.

Harry put his arm around her. "Come on…just a little expression of gratitude for a nice gift? Ron gave me one…" Harry winked at Ron, who burst into laughter.

Hermione pecked him on the cheek and pulled away. "There," she giggled. "If Ron gave you any more than that, I do _not_ want to know about it." She gathered up her trunk and disappeared up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory.

"Blimey, Harry," said Ron, "you must have spent a fortune this Christmas."

Harry leaned toward him. "Well, it would have looked odd if I got you a Firebolt and her a quill, wouldn’t it? Besides, I meant what I said before."

"Yes, I heard what you said and dammit, Harry, I don’t like to hear you talk like that. I keep telling you that I’m going to protect your sorry arse or die trying. Either way, we’re together." Ron looked so serious as he said this that it made Harry laugh.

"You’d better be careful, Ron, or people are going to start rumors about us," Harry said under his breath. 

Ron thought Harry’s comment was a bit rich, considering the sexual innuendos he had just thrown at Hermione, but he figured over-reacting wasn’t going to help matters. He picked up his book and started to read again, but was distracted by the inviting glances Harry kept sending his way over the top of his Charms book. They were either going to have to set up some rules about flirting, or Ron was going to have to learn how to walk normally with a hard-on.

* * * * *

Ron had no idea how he managed to get through the next few weeks. There was a flurry of activity as classes commenced again, and seventh-years were given nearly as much homework as the fifth-years. Students were up late into the night, which was a constant annoyance to Ron and Harry as they tried to find a few moments alone. The library was crowded as well, and they tended not to study there often since Hermione was usually sitting with Anthony Goldstein and they didn’t want her to think they were spying.

Quidditch training had also begun in earnest again, and Ron’s stature was elevated dramatically as word got out that he now owned a Firebolt. Ron had improved the level of his play to match the caliber of his broomstick, and Ginny had improved also since she was now using Ron’s Cleansweep 11. The prospects for Gryffindor winning the Quidditch cup were very high, but the outcome would most likely come down to their last game of the season against Ravenclaw.

The worst part for Ron, though, was having to endure night after lonely night without sleeping with Harry. Ron missed the warmth of his body and the scent of his skin that he had gotten used to during their two weeks of bliss. He missed the way Harry liked to rest his hand on the curve of Ron’s back, gently stroking his skin like a parent would caress a newborn baby. And he missed the mornings when he would wake up to find Harry’s brilliant green eyes staring at him. The ache of wanting Harry so much and not being able to hold him or kiss him was torture for Ron. 

He and Harry had agreed that they couldn’t risk even so much as a kiss in their empty dormitory, as it would be far too easy for Dean, Seamus or Neville to burst in on them and discover their secret. More often than not, however, Ron would find himself gently awakened in the dead of the night and the two of them would sneak down to the common room. There, hidden under Harry’s Invisibility Cloak, they would snog for an hour or so, before returning to their solitary beds. It didn’t do much to ease his frustration, though, since it merely served as a reminder of what they might be doing under different circumstances.

Three weeks into the start of the term, Ron couldn’t stand it anymore. They were walking back to the castle from the Quidditch pitch and Ron motioned to Harry to hang back and let the others walk ahead.

"Harry," he said quietly as the others pulled out of earshot, "I can’t take this anymore. If I can’t have you, I think I’ll go mad."

Harry nodded as the stairs leading to the castle came into view. "I know. It’s killing me too." They walked quietly for a moment, and Ron could see that Harry was deep in thought. Finally he said, "How much work do you have tonight?"

Ron shook his head. "Tonight’s no good. Tomorrow is Friday, so you know Snape is going to quiz us on Truth potions. I’m still not clear on the differences between them, and if I mess it up, he’s likely to give me some and ask embarrassing questions."

"More likely he’ll give it to me," replied Harry. "Right, then, tonight’s out. We’ll do it tomorrow night. I’ll say I’m going to bed and you say you’re going to bathe in the Prefects’ bathroom; we’ll meet at the Room of Requirement. I’ll bring the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder’s Map with me."

"Brilliant! I forgot all about that room, but it will be excellent! If I could, I’d kiss you!" Ron exclaimed. When they reached the top of the stone steps leading into the castle, Harry heaved open the large wooden door and they made their way into the Great Hall for dinner.

* * * * *

Harry was waiting in the hall outside the Room of Requirement when Ron arrived. "I’ve been watching you since you left the Prefects’ bathroom. Did you know you just missed Mrs. Norris on the stairway?"

"No," said Ron. "Maybe you should have left the Invisibility Cloak with me."

Harry opened the door to the Room of Requirement, which he’d already conjured, and they hurried inside. What they saw there was astonishing. The windowless room was filled with an enormous four-poster bed with a multitude of soft pillows and majestic purple bed hangings. There were two small couches and many candles in different sizes. A fireplace in the far wall was lit and firelight danced off the ceiling, which was enchanted with a moonlit sky. In front of the fireplace was a plush furry rug made from some indeterminate animal. Ron strode over to the candles and lit them with one great swish of his wand. Harry, meanwhile, pointed his wand at the door, saying, " _Colloportus_." Ron turned sharply at the strange squelching noise it made as it was sealed.

As if with one mind, Harry and Ron made their way immediately to the bed and began to undress. It seemed as if no time had passed since their last encounter, and they were anxious to unleash their pent-up desires. Ron pulled back the thick purple duvet to reveal silky smooth satin sheets of pale lavender, which were cool and sensuous against his bare skin. At last Harry joined him, and his skin came alive with the excitement of Harry’s hands roaming freely over him. Their kisses were long and deep and passionate. He could feel Harry’s excitement as well, hard as stone and grinding into his thigh.

"You’re going to bruise my leg with that weapon you’ve got there, Potter," Ron said slyly.

"Maybe I should put it someplace where it will do more good than harm," replied Harry. He looked lustfully into Ron’s eyes and begged, "Please?"

Even if he’d wanted to, Ron could never resist those eyes. "Oh, yeeees," he purred and let out a string of foul words that would have made a sailor blush. Harry had to pull away to calm himself before he could continue. 

They melted into each other, joining together as one, each one’s passion igniting the other. For minutes or hours – they didn’t know or care – they took turns fulfilling each other’s needs and satiating their own desires. When at last they no longer had the energy to carry on, they lay there sleepily, trying desperately to ignore the fact that they would not be able to spend the night here.

"Harry…" Ron asked cautiously, "I was thinking that after school lets out in June we could share a flat together. No one would think it odd that two friends share expenses…" 

There was a long pause – too long, in fact. Ron was sorry that he’d said anything, and was about to apologize when Harry finally spoke. "Ron, I can’t promise you anything. It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s, well…shit, I don’t know how to say this without it sounding all wrong." He sat up in the bed, leaning forward with his head in his hands. He turned toward Ron, watching the candlelight reflecting in his eyes.

"Look, Ron, I know stuff about the future that I can’t tell you about. Not that I don’t trust you, but Dumbledore has forbidden me to say anything to anyone. But even if I could tell you, I probably wouldn’t. It scares the hell out of me to know as much as I do. I wish I could make you understand…for me, right now, the present is my future. My idea of planning ahead is asking what’s for dinner. Dumbledore tells me constantly to stop worrying about the future and to have fun with my friends and enjoy my life. I think it’s because he knows that my life could end at any moment, and he wants my last days to be happy."

Ron lay there with his mouth open stupidly, trying to take in what Harry was telling him. He seemed to believe he was about to die. Didn’t Harry understand that Ron was his Protector? But Dumbledore had sworn him to secrecy about that, so there was precious little comfort Ron could give him. "Harry, no…"

Harry slid down next to Ron again and put his arms around him. "I want you to know that if this was the last day of my life, it would be one of my happiest. I love you so much." Harry closed his eyes to kiss him, and when he opened them again, he saw silent tears streaking down Ron’s face. Suddenly Harry became very interested in finding a clock, giving Ron a moment to pull himself together. He was glad he did, though, because when he found it, it read 11:30.

"Oh no! Ron, we’ve got to get out of here." He quickly got out of the bed and sorted through the pile of clothing to determine which items belonged to him. They dressed in silence, feeling both an urgency to leave and a desperate longing to stay. When they were sure they had gathered all their things, Harry removed the seal on the door and Ron started to open it. Harry pulled him back, though, for one last earth-shattering kiss. They turned back and saw the door partially open with two bright eyes as big as galleons staring at them. 

Ron screamed. Harry quickly pulled the voyeur inside and shut the door.

It was Ginny Weasley.

* * * * *

The three of them stood there, speechless, staring at each other. "Hi, Ginny," said Harry, finally breaking the awkward silence. "Surprised to see you here. Patrol duty tonight?"

"Yeah, I…You…oh, you are in so much trouble and… Shit, I don’t believe this! You and my brother…" Ginny was as angry as Harry had ever seen her. She appeared to be shocked, angry and disgusted all at once.

Ron reached out to touch her arm, but she pulled it away and backed towards the door. "Ginny, let us explain, would you?"

"Explain?" she shrieked. "What do you possibly have to explain? It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?" She looked at Ron, and then at Harry. Her voice calmer, she said softly, "What a total idiot I am. You know, the rumors that you two are gay lovers are flying all over the school, and I’ve been defending you! Why, I’ll never know. But I guess you had me fooled. I’ll be so humiliated when they all find out."

Ron grabbed her hand before she could move away. "Ginny, we have to talk now." He tried to pull her toward one of the couches, but she wouldn’t budge. 

"I don’t want to hear what you have to say," she hissed angrily.

"Harry, I think you should go back to the dormitory and let me chat with my sister. We have some things to clear up," Ron said tersely.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. I think I should stay."

Ron’s glare shot daggers at him. "Trust me on this, Harry. You take the cloak and the map. We’re both prefects. If we get stopped, we’ll just say we were both on patrol tonight."

Ginny looked angry, but she didn’t make to leave either. Harry knew better than to argue with Ron when he wore that particular expression so – against his better judgment – he left them alone.

Ron directed Ginny to the couch and they sat down. "Okay, I’m listening," she said curtly, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Just to set the record straight, Harry and I are lovers, but we aren’t gay. We both like girls, too." Ron’s voice was surprisingly calm, as if he were reciting a speech he’d been working on in his head for weeks.

"Oh, well that’s a relief. I can owl the _Daily Prophet_ now and confirm that Harry Potter is _not_ gay, he’s bi!" said Ginny sarcastically.

Ron chose to ignore this remark and stuck with his prepared text. "It’s important to me that you understand that what Harry and I have together is the most significant thing in my life. We’re not just two teenagers experimenting with sex." Ron gently grabbed her arm for emphasis. "For both of us, this is the real thing, Gin. We love each other. We make each other happy. For God’s sake, Ginny, please don’t bodge this up for us by telling anyone." His pleading eyes were boring into hers, and he watched her squirm uncomfortably.

"How long has this been going on, anyway?" asked Ginny sullenly.

"Since the holidays. I dunno, maybe before that."

"Mum’s going to go spare when she finds out," said Ginny, looking down at the front of her robes.

Ron was still holding her arm, and he shook it slightly, causing Ginny to glare at him hotly. "You can’t tell anyone. Not Mum or Dad, not anyone! Promise me!"

"Get off it, Ron. You don’t really expect that you can keep this a secret! The rumors are already rampant all over the school. They have been for months, but have gotten worse since Harry gave you the Firebolt. I mean, honestly, if Harry was trying to keep it a secret, why would he do that?"

"Sometimes Harry doesn’t think about what he’s doing, and sometimes he doesn’t know the whole story," answered Ron shortly. 

Ginny glared at him skeptically. "What’s that supposed to mean? What’s the whole story?"

"I can’t tell you that," Ron replied. "Dumbledore made me promise not to say anything…"

"Dumbledore knows about the two of you?" interrupted Ginny.

"Well…yeah."

Ginny looked incredulous. "And he’s _okay_ with this?"

"He didn’t exactly encourage us to come out of the closet, but, yeah, he was pretty cool with it." Ron was battling with himself to figure out how much he could say without breaking his promise to Dumbledore. But maybe Ginny could help them. Besides, he would trust her with his life.

"Look, Gin, if I tell you what’s going on, would you promise to keep quiet and help us keep anyone else from finding out?" Ron knew this was a low trick – extracting this promise from her knowing she’d rather agree to keep quiet than not know some juicy bit of information.

Ginny thought for a moment. "I guess so. I mean...I’ll do the best I can…" She shifted in her seat to see him better, her irritation having given way to her curiosity.

"See, the thing is, Ginny," Ron started, "that I can’t do anything that would jeopardize the way Harry and I feel about each other. I’m worried that if everyone finds out about us, the stress and the publicity and everything will make it impossible for us to be together. You see, as long as Harry and I are together, I can protect him from You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters."

Ginny scoffed at him, "You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you? You… a match for You-Know-Who? That’s a bit melodramatic, Ron, even for you. How thick do you think I am?"

Ginny froze, though, when she glanced up and saw the seriousness on her brother’s face. He was not one to wind her up often – they had both been on the receiving end of Fred and George’s antics too often to try it with each other. What if he was telling the truth? "Sorry," she said quickly. "Go on."

"Remember when we went to Egypt and Mum dragged us into practically every shop in the country looking for that stupid Tyet of Isis charm?" Ginny nodded. How could she forget – they must have gone to thirty different stores! "Well, I found one at a shop in Hogsmeade, and I figured that if anyone needed extra protection from evil it was Harry, so I bought it for him for Christmas."

"Mum said they were rare, though. How could you afford it? I didn’t loan you that much."

Ron smiled, "I think the witch who sold it thought it was a piece of old junk jewelry. I practically stole it. Anyway, Harry wore it to Christmas dinner, and Dumbledore saw it and recognized what it was. Later, Dumbledore told me that in order for it to work properly, the spirit of Isis had to be invoked with this bizarre kind of ceremony. He loaned me a book that said that if a lover performed the invocation on behalf of his beloved, the protection would be twice as powerful."

Ginny was amazed, "So you did this ceremony?"

"Yeah," continued Ron. "It was really weird. We put the amulet in a cauldron with this flower-water, started a fire under it and I said the incantation. These huge red and orange flames shot up into the air, and the water changed from yellow to green to red. It totally freaked out Harry, though. He said it reminded him of the spell that brought You-Know-Who back."

Ginny gulped. Ron’s story was definitely getting more impressive. "Okay, you’ve got Harry protected now. What’s the big deal if anyone finds out about you and Harry?"

"It’s only effective as long as Harry and I are…you know, together. If we’re just friends, it doesn’t work. The bond has to be strong for both of us." Ron was looking at her fervently, willing her to understand how important it was. "Both Harry and Dumbledore are convinced that You-Know-Who or his followers will try to kill Harry again. If the bond isn’t strong enough, I won’t be able to protect him."

"Blimey, Ron, no pressure there, eh?" She sat quietly for a moment, thinking about the situation. "So all you want, then, is to be left alone to be in love with each other while you sit around and wait for You-Know-Who to kill Harry."

Ron nodded his head. "For the most part, yes. Except what we’re waiting for is Harry to kill You-Know-Who. Dumbledore reckons that with my help – with the Tyet of Isis – Harry has a good shot at snuffing him first. So, Gin, will you help us?"

"Well I owe it to Harry to try, don’t I?" she answered. "He did save me from Tom Riddle and Dad from that snake. But you two are going to have to chill for a while."

"What are you going to do?" Ron asked curiously.

"I’m going to try to manipulate the rumor mill for our benefit. I think it will work, but you won’t like it much. Just remember, it’s all for the cause." Without any further explanation, Ginny sprang to her feet and headed for the door. "Come on, McGonagall will kill us if she finds us out of bed this late."

"Wait, Ginny, what am I not going to like?" Ron called to her. 

Ginny, however, was extinguishing the candles with her wand and paying him no attention whatsoever. "It’ll be better if you don’t know," she said as they walked out the door. When Ron looked back, the door to the Room of Requirement had vanished.

* * * * *

Harry was waiting for them in the common room. Ginny said goodnight as she walked swiftly by him, but did not make eye contact or give any indication of her feelings toward him. Ron didn’t look too worried, so Harry supposed it had gone all right. Since there were a number of others still awake, though, he couldn’t say much.

"Is she going to be okay?" Harry asked.

Ron nodded. "I think she was just shocked, mostly. I can’t say as I blame her. Kind of a nasty surprise to find out like that."

Harry lowered his voice. "Do you think she’ll say anything?"

Ron grinned. "I told you to trust me, mate. Actually, she’s going to help us." His smile faded. "She said I wouldn’t like it, though, so it has me a bit concerned."

Harry smiled. "Don’t worry, Ron. It’ll be fine. She’s got her heart in the right place."


	6. A TANGLED WEB WOVEN

Knowing now that the whole school was talking about them, Ron and Harry made a concerted effort to mingle more with other people. They started studying in the library again, frequently talking other Gryffindors into joining them. Harry started going to breakfast early with Neville, and Ron began challenging Seamus to Wizard's chess when they had some free time. And with their Quidditch match against Hufflepuff rapidly approaching, they were likely as not to be seen with their teammates.

One Monday evening, Ron and Harry were at the library sitting at a large table with Ginny and Andrew Kirke. Harry thought Ginny was acting very strangely. She kept chattering at him, which was annoying because he had quite a bit of work to be getting on with and didn't want to be up past midnight. They hadn't been there more than half an hour when a large pack of sixth-year girls, mostly from Ravenclaw and Slytherin, entered the library and proceeded to settle themselves very noisily at a table near the back. Madam Pince was at their table reprimanding them in a flash. Harry and Ron merely looked at each other, shaking their heads in exasperation. Harry's eye caught Ginny's, and was intrigued by her gleeful expression.

"Are you going to share the joke?" Harry said to her playfully.

"Yeah. But you have to follow me," she said mysteriously. Ron gave her a look as if she was mental, but Harry was curious so he followed her into the stacks. She led them to an area near the back of the library where no one would be able to see or hear them except the noisy sixth-year girls.

Quite unexpectedly, she turned to him so that she was facing the back wall and he was facing the table of girls. Ginny threw her weight against him, catching him slightly off balance, so he had to struggle to remain standing and put his arms around her for support. They made enough of a racket, though, to catch the attention of the sixth-years. Before Harry could register what was happening, Ginny's lips were pressing against his and her tongue was begging permission to enter his mouth. When he opened his lips to protest, her tongue got there first, and he had little choice but to relax and enjoy it.

She broke off the kiss and whispered into his ear, "Come on, Harry. Rub my arse a bit and put some heart into this performance. You want to make it believable, don't you?" 

She began to kiss the curve of his neck, and, as she was a good bit shorter than he was, he bent down to whisper in her ear. "Er, Ginny, what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm priming the rumor mill. Are you going to help me or not?"

Harry couldn't think of any reason not to do as she requested. It wasn't too bad, either, he thought. She smelled a lot like Ron – well, like Ron after he'd taken a shower. He hated to admit it, but she was a much better kisser than Ron. It was pleasant to kiss her, although he felt no yearning for more in the pit of his stomach like he always did with Ron.

He straightened up quickly and pushed Ginny aside as he saw Madam Pince turn to walk down the aisle toward them. They feigned interest in a book on the top shelf, with Harry saying, "I'll get it for you – I can reach." After Madam Pince moved on, Harry put his arm around Ginny, pausing to whisper a word of thanks just after they passed the table of sixth-year girls.

As they sat down, Andrew and Ron looked up from their homework. "So, what was so amusing?" asked Ron.

Harry grinned like the Cheshire Cat as he said, "Your sister is brilliant, mate." He winked at Ginny and reached his hand to her across the table. She took it, and Harry gave it a knowing squeeze. Harry noticed Andrew raise an eyebrow, while Ron blanched slightly. _Ginny was right_ , thought Harry. _Ron isn't going to like this plan one little bit._

* * * * *

Even Ginny was surprised by the speed at which news of her brief encounter with Harry in the library had spread through the school. As she sat next to Harry the next morning at breakfast, she told him that Hermione had heard a Ravenclaw girl saying that Ginny had sucked him off right in the middle of the library! Harry was mortified, but Ginny thought it was hilarious. Ron was trying hard to take it all in stride, but after the fourth person came up to him to ask what he thought about his best friend dating his sister, he testily swore at Harry and Ginny and told them to get a room next time. He didn't speak to Harry all the way to Transfiguration class, and became even more annoyed when he heard Padma Patil saying to Hannah Abbott, "and he couldn't keep his hands off her." Padma stopped talking when she saw Ron staring.

_It's all for the cause_ , he muttered to himself under his breath. What happened to making sure that he and Harry were left alone to be in love? Ron was so jealous he wanted to scream, but he knew that was wrong because it was only a ploy to deflect attention from Harry and him. Harry kept trying to stand near him as they waited outside Professor McGonagall's classroom. He didn't want to talk to Harry, though. He was sure that any words he spoke would come out hateful and venomous and, instead of deflecting attention from Ron, he was going to look like a jilted lover. Of course, that was exactly how he felt.

He might have predicted that the first question out of Susan Bones' mouth would concern Harry and his sister Ginny. "Yeah, they're going out," he said trying to sound casual, "but don't believe everything you hear." Professor McGonagall started lecturing then, and he focused all his attention on her review of Conjuring spells. 

After a few minutes, though, his mind started to wander. Harry was going to come out of this plan seeming perfectly normal, but Ron's sexual orientation was still going to be in question. If they wanted to do this right, Ron was going to have to make an effort to start chatting up some girls. He looked around to see who might be available. Hermione wasn't an option, and Parvati and Lavender annoyed him and probably wouldn't agree even if he did ask them out. There were a number of girls to his left who were attractive but he didn't know very well. His gaze landed on Susan Bones. She saw him glance at her and smiled back. Susan might be okay, he thought. She was reasonably attractive, and had a great figure. She was very nice, tended not to giggle too much, and she already liked him. He tried to remember if she was dating anyone – he didn't think so. He looked around and saw the rest of the class diligently copying the assignment from the board. Ron quickly followed suit.

After spending so much time watching Harry in action, Ron had learned how to pour on the charm if he wanted to. Harry had gotten well past the stage where he couldn't talk to girls without making a prat of himself, and now he could lay it on so thick sometimes that Ron wanted to gag. During their practice time for Conjuring spells, he was showering Susan Bones with all the charm he could muster; she was eating it up with a fork and spoon. Twice Professor McGonagall walked over to reprimand them for not practicing harder, but the second time Ron managed to quiet her by conjuring a tin of ginger snaps while she stood there and offering her one. Susan was very impressed. It took all his will not to look at Harry, but he could feel Harry's gaze burning into him several times. When their eyes finally met several minutes before the end of class, Ron flashed him a friendly smile and continued talking to Susan.

* * * * *

They were alone in the changing rooms as they put on their Quidditch robes. Harry's shirt was off and Ron was mesmerized by his smooth pale skin and chiseled muscles. His mouth went dry as Harry sauntered over and stood right in front of him. He did not look pleased. In a throaty voice Harry said, "So, was that performance in Transfiguration my punishment for kissing your sister?"

Harry was now standing directly in front of him. Ron could feel Harry's moist breath on his lips. Why was Harry torturing him like this? Was he really angry about his flirting with Susan Bones? The lust in his eyes was unmistakable. Did he know what that look was doing to Ron?

"Ginny says it's all for the cause," Ron said, his dry throat cracking. "And if you could see how I am ravishing you in my mind right now, you wouldn't even bring it up." 

Harry was silent for a moment, and Ron could read the anguish in his eyes. "I'm sorry," Harry moaned. "It's just that it was really hard to watch you flirt with someone else."

"Well I'm not exactly overjoyed with the idea of my lover snogging my little sister either," said Ron. "It's just a game, though. Right? Just a ruse so that we can get everyone to leave us alone. Susan and I will go on a few dates, we'll be seen having sex in the library a couple of times, and then I'll do something incredibly suave like insult her. I'll be a free man by the end of February."

This made Harry laugh, and he wore the sweet smile that he reserved just for Ron. "Ron, I…"

"I know," interrupted Ron, "me too." He brushed his lips on Harry's as he moved quickly past him to find his robes. Harry whimpered like a puppy. Ron knew he shouldn't feel this way, but he was glad that Harry was jealous. He wanted Harry to feel the same way he did. Ron had never expected to be in a relationship like this. Why couldn't they just be together? As he pulled on his Quidditch robes he saw Harry sitting on the bench. It looked like he was doing those exercises for Occlumency where he practiced clearing his mind of all emotion. He was going to have to ask Harry to teach him how to do that.

* * * * *

Much to everyone's surprise, Gryffindor's Quidditch match against Hufflepuff was no walk in the park. Zacharias Smith, the Hufflepuff captain, had put together a very strong team, and Harry was uncharacteristically off his game. After three grueling hours and more than a dozen spectacular saves by Ron, Harry finally managed to secure a Gryffindor win by streaking past Summerby to catch the Snitch two meters from the Gryffindor goal posts. 

Harry heard Madam Hooch's whistle followed by a tumultuous uproar from the Gryffindor stands. Harry was stopped in mid-air holding the Snitch that was flitting its wings wildly trying to escape his grip. They nearly blew their cover when Ron embraced him a second later and the two of them led their teammates arm in arm on a victory lap of the stadium. Fortunately, Ginny flew to Harry's other side and threw her arm around him as well. Still clutching the Snitch, Harry grabbed on to her shoulder as she called up to him, "Kiss me quick, you prat!" He leaned over and kissed her cheek, hoping it would be convincing enough for anyone who might have been watching.

Just for show, Harry kept his arm around Ginny until they reached the changing rooms. He looked back to find Ron and saw that Susan Bones, clad in her yellow and black muffler and mittens, had come over to congratulate him. Ron was animatedly describing the phenomenal save he made against Smith's last scoring attempt while trying very hard not to offend her loyalty to Hufflepuff. Whether Susan cared was debatable, but she hung on his every word and appeared to encourage his lurid commentary.

He felt Ginny's hand turn his face away from Ron and Susan, and they exchanged a meaningful glance. She gently said, "He's having a hard time with this too, you know."

"Yeah," said Harry sarcastically, "I can tell it's just killing him." Harry turned toward the changing rooms at the same moment that Susan Bones gave Ron a congratulatory kiss. Ginny watched sadly as Ron kissed her back.

* * * * *

The only time Harry could remember feeling so depressed after winning a Quidditch match was when Professor Umbridge had banned him from Quidditch for life for attacking Draco Malfoy his fifth year. He joined in the victory festivities for a short while, and then quietly slipped upstairs to be alone. Ron came into the dormitory looking for him ten minutes later and found him slumped face down on his bed with his glasses off and feet hanging over the edge.

Ron checked to make sure they were alone, and then bent down to kiss the nape of Harry's neck. Harry didn't move, but Ron saw the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile. Ron whispered into his ear, "I was just wondering whether another visit to the Room of Requirement is in order. I think someone needs a little attention."

Harry rolled onto his back and looked at Ron accusingly. "She's very pretty, and nice too."

"Who, Ginny?" asked Ron, very confused.

"Well, yes, Ginny, but I was referring to Susan." Harry's eyes were shining, as if challenging Ron to state the truth about his feelings for Susan.

"Yeah," said Ron slowly, "she is. And I think she likes me too. I asked her out for next Hogsmeade weekend." He looked anxiously at Harry. "That's okay, isn't it? I mean...that was our plan."

Harry nodded reluctantly. "I suppose Ginny and I will do something together too." He paused. "This is so ironic. The only person I want to be with is the one person I can't have."

"You have me," said Ron. "You just can't touch me. Well, not in public anyway." He put his hand on Harry's thigh and kissed him with all the passion he could muster. He wanted Harry to know that Susan Bones meant nothing to him – that she was just a means to an end. Harry was his world, his everything. 

They heard a noise, and Ron saw the door move. Thinking fast, he grabbed the neck of Harry's robes, lifting him slightly off the bed and snarled at him menacingly, "You'd better be treating Ginny right, or you'll have to deal with me." Then he shoved Harry back on to the bed and stormed past Dean, who was staring, shocked, from the doorway.

Dean cautiously approached Harry's bed, where he saw Harry calmly putting on his glasses. "What's going on?" he asked.

"He seems to have an issue with me dating his sister. Overreacting, I think – don't you?" Harry answered with a frown.

Dean chuckled, "Boy, I knew he wasn't too thrilled that I was dating Ginny – you know, last year. But he never threatened me. Of course, I am bigger than him, and I could flatten his arse any day. But I thought he _wanted_ you to date her."

Harry shook his head. "I don't suppose anyone will ever be good enough in his eyes." As Harry got to his feet, he was suddenly curious. "Er, can I ask you something, Dean?" Dean nodded. "Why did you and Ginny break up?"

He grinned broadly. "Didn't she ever tell you? She said she liked me and all, but she was still in love with someone else."

"Who? That Michael Corner bloke?" asked Harry, his eyes opening wide.

"No, you, of course. She said she felt guilty being with me when she really wanted to be with you. That's why she hasn't dated anyone since last year. I thought you knew that." Dean was smiling, thinking that Harry would be enthusiastic about this news now that they were officially dating. Harry faked a smile too, even though his brain was screaming. Shit! He had no idea that Ginny still felt that way about him, or he'd never have agreed to this crazy scheme in the first place. Was it possible for his life to get any more complicated?

* * * * *

"I'm telling you, Harry, it's a nightmare!"

Ron and Harry were lounging in the enormous purple four-poster in the Room of Requirement, physically exhausted but emotionally rejuvenated by their morning lovemaking. Several of Harry's limbs were carelessly thrown across Ron, who was giving a recap of his date with Susan Bones the night before. They had decided that Sunday mornings would be "their time," since everyone expected them to sleep late and wouldn't bother to look for them unless they failed to show up for lunch.

"She's all upset because I haven't been bugging her to go up to the Astronomy Tower with me. She thought maybe I didn't find her attractive or didn't want to be seen with her. So then I play naïve and ask her what was so special about the Astronomy Tower and couldn't we kiss anywhere?"

Harry snickered. "Oh, Ron, you didn't really…"

Ron smiled. "Clever, eh? So her eyes get really wide and she whispers to me, 'People do more than kiss up there.' And then I make my eyes get all wide and I say, 'Is that what you want?' And she says, 'I don't know if I'm ready.' Merlin, Harry, why in bloody hell was she nagging me about not doing something she isn't sure she wants to do? As long as I live, I'll never understand girls!"

Harry would have found this extremely funny if he weren't feeling so anxious about it. "So what did you tell her?"

"What could I tell her? 'Sorry, I'm not interested in you because I'm madly in love with my best friend?' No, I pulled the speech out of my head that Mum gives Ginny about twice a year… 'I believe in waiting to have sex until I'm in love and I know this is someone I want to spend the rest of my life with…blah, blah, blah'."

Harry winced. "Did it get you off the hook, then?"

Ron shook his head. "Hardly. Now she seems to think I am some kind of saint for actually having old-fashioned morals and sticking to them. She said that it only makes her respect me more. Dammit, Harry, I think the only way I'm going to be able to break up with her is to be a real jerk. And I don't want to do that because I actually really like her a lot."

"You don't have to break up with her," said Harry, his emerald eyes twinkling at Ron's blue ones, "as long as the only one you're shagging is me."

"Remember, Harry, I have old-fashioned morals! I'll only have sex with someone I want to spend the rest of my life with," Ron said with a grin. "It's so difficult, you know, holding the moral high ground." 

"Listen to you!" Harry sat up and put his glasses on. "We'd better get back. I have loads of homework to do today, and we have Quidditch later." 

Ron agreed, and they rolled out of bed and quickly dressed. Harry consulted the Marauder's Map to ensure no one was hovering in the seventh floor hallway when they emerged. "That's odd," he said, hurrying over to Ron, who was sitting on the bed tying his trainers. He shoved the map in front of Ron's face. "Look, there, in Dumbledore's office."

Ron saw a crowd of small dots clustered in the spot designating Dumbledore's office. He squinted to read the tiny writing. "Rubeus Hagrid, Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, Dedalus Diggle, Minerva McGonagall, Emmaline Vance, Remus Lupin… Harry, these are all members of the Order!"

"I know," said Harry anxiously. "I wonder what's going on to bring everyone here on a Sunday morning? I hope nothing bad hasn't happened."

The coast was clear, so they hurried back to the Gryffindor common room where they found Hermione and Ginny whispering together in a corner. "Where have you been?" asked Hermione impatiently. "I've been looking for you all morning!"

"Went out for a go on the Firebolts," Harry lied calmly. "Why? What's going on?"

Hermione threw the front section of the _Sunday Prophet_ on the table in front of them. They gasped when they read the headline.

 

**3 MURDERED IN SEPARATE ATTACKS**

**DARK MARK SEEN AFTER 16 YEAR ABSENCE**

Two wizards and a witch were found dead last night with the infamous Dark Mark hovering in the sky above their lifeless bodies. All three were current or former employees of the Ministry of Magic with high security clearance.

Two of the victims were identified as Ludovic "Ludo" Bagman and Madam Adrienne Tawny-Brown. The name of the third victim is being withheld until relatives can be notified. Bagman, the former Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports and famed Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps, was found dead at the house of his brother, Otto. Mr. Bagman had not been seen in public since the Triwizard Tournament three years ago, and it is unknown how long he had been staying with his brother, who was found unconscious at the scene and has been taken in for questioning. Madam Tawny-Brown had been recently promoted to Senior Assistant for International Magical Cooperation after serving seventeen years in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in various positions. Madam Tawny-Brown's residence showed signs of forced entry and a struggle, and Magical Law Enforcement officials were quick to point out that time is needed to sort through all the evidence before commenting on the crime scene.

The Dark Mark was seen hovering in the sky above the site of each murder, terrifying neighbors and causing general panic by all who saw it. You-Know-Who and his followers have been suspected in several high-profile disappearances during the past 15 months, but yesterday was the first time the Dark Mark has appeared at a crime scene in nearly sixteen years, although it was conjured briefly at the last Quidditch World Cup. Many remember the Dark Mark as a hallmark of the rampant violence that characterized You-Know-Who's first reign of terror. Ministry officials refused to comment publicly, but several acknowledged off-the-record that they did not feel the Ministry of Magic was fully prepared to prevent the extreme violence that could be expected from You-Know-Who now that he has resurfaced.

 

 

 

Ron looked at Harry, who was scanning the rest of the article, and noticed that he had become very pale. This was what Dumbledore had feared – that the targeted killings of those who were a threat to Voldemort's return to power would set everyone in a panic. 

Harry shoved the newspaper aside and began pacing. He was going to have to forget about school and focus on the war now. Three hits in one night with the Dark Mark flying overhead certainly seemed to indicate the war had escalated, and it wouldn't matter if Harry got Outstanding on all five of his NEWT exams if he were dead within the year.

"What are you going to do?" asked Hermione nervously. She glanced sideways at Ginny, who was too worried to speak.

"I'm going to take a shower, eat some lunch and then try to see Professor Dumbledore. There's no point in panicking if Dumbledore has a plan. We have to trust him on this." Harry turned away and quickly disappeared up the stairs to the boys' dormitory.

"That reaction was way too calm and rational to be Harry," said Hermione. "Are you sure he isn't some imposter on Polyjuice Potion?"

Ron looked at her morosely. "No, that's him all right. That's how he's been sounding all year whenever he talks about the war – or even the future. He's preparing himself to die."

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione clucked. "He's not going to die. He's survived so many times already and he's been taking all those extra lessons! Dumbledore's plan will work – I just know it will."

Finally Ginny piped up, "And the amulet! Ron, he has to know that will protect him!"

"What amulet?" asked Hermione.

"Ron gave Harry an amulet to ward off evil – it's called a Tyet of Isis and it's supposed to be powerful," Ginny glanced at Ron, who was very annoyed that she'd said anything in front of Hermione.

"Oh, Isis! I've read about her. She's the one who rules over magic and witchcraft! I didn't realize she was a protector too. But isn't that, well, just mythology?"

"Dumbledore seemed to think it was a powerful magical object when Harry showed it to him," said Ron. "And he's wearing it – I mean, it can't hurt to have extra protection, right?" Ron looked hesitantly at the stairway. "I'd better go up and make sure he's not thinking of doing anything rash."

Ginny thought Ron might not be the best choice to prevent Harry from rash behavior, but she said nothing. She and Hermione sat down at their table again, neither having the energy or inclination to return to their studies. Ginny had watched Harry go off half-cocked too many times to think he was just going to calmly wait and see what Dumbledore had in store for him. _Oh Isis,_ she thought, _if you're listening, you've got to help him. Harry is going to need all the help he can get._

* * * * *

Harry returned from Dumbledore's office in a foul mood. He had learned nothing of substance except that Dumbledore now felt the time was right for a counterattack. It would be a number of weeks, even months, to get all the elements of his plan in place; therefore, Harry's involvement was still a ways off. He also learned that Ludo Bagman had most likely been killed in an attempt to persuade the Goblins to join forces with Voldemort, and that the two others were killed in retaliation because they had been at least partially responsible for sending several Death Eaters to Azkaban. 

Dumbledore had been quite adamant that Harry and his friends make no moves to contact anyone outside the castle. "This is the moment of truth, Harry," he'd said. "It all comes down to the plan. Don't waste any emotion on hatred, anger, or revenge. Voldemort will sense that in you, and it will be not only to your own detriment, but, I daresay, to that of many other innocent people as well. We already know that he cannot possess you when the power of love is strong within you, so drive him from your thoughts by your happiness and affection for those who care so deeply about you. You are young, and it is in your nature to want to act hastily, but I would entreat you to deny that urge within yourself and focus your efforts on being patient."

Harry flopped onto his bed and stared up at the canopy. His thoughts immediately went to Sirius. He knew how Sirius had felt – being asked to wait patiently while others did the work he was unable to do. But where had that gotten him? He could say with perfect honesty that he did not care whether he lived or died. If he lived, then Voldemort would be gone forever, and he could have the life of a normal wizard. Everything bad that had ever happened in his life could be blamed on Voldemort. With Voldemort out of the way, he might actually have a future – might even be a professional Quidditch player! But if he died, well, he'd be with his parents, and with Sirius. Dumbledore had once matter-of-factly described death as "the next great adventure," and Harry agreed with him. But his death would mean there would be no one else who could defeat Voldemort. If Voldemort returned to power unchecked, it most certainly would result in a tragic loss of life. He couldn't do anything that would put Ron or Hermione, or any one else he cared about, in harm's way.

Patience. Hmph. Whenever somebody mentioned patience, Snape's voice always echoed in his mind. Snape had chastised him at least a thousand times for lacking patience and subtlety. But if he looked at it rationally, Snape was still here – even after having been a Death Eater – while Sirius, who definitely lacked patience, was not. The idea of doing anything Snape suggested went against the very fabric of his being, but Dumbledore was practically begging and, to be honest, Harry had no idea what he could actually do to move along the process.

He needed to talk to Ron. Where the hell was he anyway? Harry checked the clock, and suddenly remembered he was supposed to have been on the Quidditch pitch twenty minutes ago _. Well, Dumbledore as much as told me to go have fun_ , he thought as he raced down the stairs.

   



	7. GODDESS ON TRIAL

“Where’s Harry?” said Hermione, sliding in to the seat next to Ron. “I thought he’d come down to dinner with you or Ginny.”

 

“He had a les – er, detention with Snape until five o’clock.  He should be here soon,” replied Ginny from Ron’s other side.

 

Hermione poured herself some pumpkin juice and launched into a recap of their Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson earlier in the day.  Somehow it always helped her to reinforce what she’d learned if she was able to discuss the concepts with others.  It was a habit that routinely drove Ron mad.  As she prattled on, she stopped only long enough to observe to the others that Snape had arrived at the Staff table and Harry had not.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

Harry headed through the portrait hole on his way to the Great Hall.  His Occlumency lesson had gone very well for the first time in weeks, and he had succeeded not only in keeping Snape from his thoughts without resorting to using his wand, but also in feeding Snape false ideas that were totally believable.  Despite his success, he left the lesson with his head pounding, and he thought it best to spend a few minutes in his quiet dormitory out of the din of the Great Hall until the pain passed.  He was hungry, though, so he didn’t dally for long.

 

He heard a noise in the stairwell as he approached it, and glanced at his watch to see if it was so late that students were finishing their meals and returning to their dormitories.  But it was only 5:20.  Harry jumped when he looked up and saw three boys facing him with their wands drawn ready to duel.  It was Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle.

 

“Well, well, well…” said Malfoy, his eyes shining with malice, “if it isn’t the famous Harry Potter, all alone in a deserted seventh floor hallway.”

 

“Get out of my face, Malfoy,” said Harry, warily.  He drew his wand instantly with a move that surprised the three Slytherins with its quickness.  If he was going to be attacked by these three, he wanted to make sure he did some damage before they took him down.

 

Malfoy sneered, “You know, I don’t think I’ll get out of your face.  I think I’ll curse it into oblivion.  Boys?”  

 

But before they could utter their curses, Harry shouted, “ _Stupefy_ ,” and waved his wand, sending a bolt of red light towards them, trying to stun all three at once.  Crabbe and Goyle immediately collapsed to the ground, but Malfoy, showing grace like a cat, had dived out of the way and escaped intact and on his feet.  Harry and Malfoy faced each other, wands extended, neither boy daring to blink.

 

“They’re going to expel you for attacking another student, Malfoy,” said Harry, trying to stall for time while he quickly concocted a plan of attack.

 

Malfoy let out a mirthless laugh.  “Do you really think I care about school and how many NEWTs I’m going to earn?  Not when I can report back to the Dark Lord that I’ve killed Harry Potter.”

 

Harry raised his eyebrows, trying to remain calm.  _Shit, kill me?  And knowing Malfoy, he’s not kidding!_   “So you’re doing Voldemort’s bidding now?  What’s the problem – the old guy’s getting soft and, since he can’t seem to kill me himself, he’s sending in the new recruits?”

 

Malfoy started moving, as did Harry, so that they were circling away from the stairway where Crabbe and Goyle lay unconscious and Malfoy now had more room to maneuver.  “Something like that.  The Dark Lord can’t get into the castle, but there are those of us who are more than willing to do what he asks.”  

 

Malfoy suddenly pointed his wand at Harry and shouted “ _Expelliarmus_ ,” but at almost the same instant, Harry shouted, “ _Protego_.”  Once again, Malfoy showed his quickness, and he stepped aside as his own hex reflected back to him.

 

“ _Serpensortia_ ,” shouted Malfoy, and a large fanged snake shot out of the end of his wand.  Harry dodged it and cried, “ _Evanesco_ ,” vanishing the snake even before it hit the ground.  Harry tried to “ _Accio_ ” Malfoy’s wand, but Malfoy was able to hold on to it.

 

Harry and Malfoy dueled in this way for more than five minutes – Harry had lost track of time.  They had continued to move away from the staircase and increased the distance between them.  Harry started attacking offensively, afraid of giving Malfoy the upper hand in their battle, and was surprised by some of the defensive moves Malfoy was able to use.  Evidently he had been practicing for this moment for a long time, and he was determined to keep up the battle until he won.

 

Malfoy had hit Harry with an Impediment Jinx that he had not been able to fully avoid, and it knocked him backwards off his feet.  He cast another Shield Charm to deflect Malfoy’s next curse, which he knew would follow quickly, and sure enough, Malfoy ended up having to dodge his own Stunning spell.  This gave Harry enough time to get back to his feet.  He saw a look of terror come over Malfoy’s face, which was not looking at Harry, but staring beyond him at the stairway.  Without thinking, he turned to see what had upset Malfoy, but saw only the slumped bodies of Crabbe and Goyle.  Wheeling around, he faced Malfoy just in time to be hit with a Jelly-Legs Jinx that sent him crashing to the floor.  Before he could move, Malfoy had cast a binding spell, which now left him completely vulnerable.

 

“You see, Potter,” said Malfoy, breathing heavily, “I spent my Christmas holidays preparing for the moment when I would exact revenge for what you did to my father.  I did warn you, didn’t I, that I would kill you?”

 

Harry looked around for something – anything – that might help him, but they were in an empty hallway and he had dropped his wand when Malfoy’s binding charm caught him unexpectedly.  “Go on then,” he said dully.  “Kill me now and be done with it.  I’m not afraid to die.”

 

The smirk had vanished from Malfoy’s face, and pure hatred had replaced it.  He squinted and flashed Harry a thin, evil smile.  “Before I’ve had a chance to hurt you?  Potter, I’m going to cause you so much pain, you’ll be begging for death.”

 

Harry knew what that felt like, and began to panic.  He vividly remembered the blinding pain of Voldemort possessing him, and how he had wanted nothing more than to die and be with Sirius.  Malfoy was raising his wand, savoring the moment of inflicting unspeakable pain on his archenemy.  Suddenly Harry remembered the amulet and cried out, “Isis!”  He thought desperately of Ron, hoping beyond all hope that the amulet would work, and that there would be no harm done to Ron because of it.

 

“ _Crucio_.”  Malfoy’s voice echoed clearly through the empty hallway, and Harry braced for the assault.  It didn’t come.  Harry watched the maniacal glee erode from Malfoy’s face as he realized that Harry wasn’t feeling so much as a prickle.  Stunned, he cast the spell again.  Still, there was no cry of torment from Harry.  

 

Malfoy watched Harry close his eyes, but he did not know that Harry was focusing every last bit of energy on his feelings of love for Ron.  In his thoughts he was telling Ron where he was and what was happening, saying over and over how much he loved him.  It was working – he was feeling no pain.  _Oh, Isis, thank you!  Oh, Ron, mate, it’s working!_ ”  The faint smile that passed his lips in relief only incensed Malfoy more.  In pure frustration, he kicked Harry with his outrageously expensive pointy-toed boots.  Harry felt nothing, and didn’t move; it was as if he were made of stone.  It must have hurt Malfoy quite a bit, though, because he winced in pain and Harry watched the expression of fury change to one of anguish.  

 

As the pain in his toe subsided, Malfoy was nearly apoplectic.  “What is this magic, Potter?” he screamed.  “I will not let you defeat me!  I will not let you live!”  He raised his wand and, gathering the strength of his will, loudly said, “ _Avada_ …” Harry heard a quiet voice from out of nowhere and watched Draco Malfoy drop to the ground.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

Harry still hadn’t shown up at dinner, and Ron was worried, hoping he hadn’t developed another one of those headaches he frequently got after having the pleasure of Occlumency with Snape.  He was trying to decide what Harry might like if he nicked a plate of food for him, when he felt a surge within him and slumped over on to Hermione’s shoulder, nearly about to faint.  This, of course, caused heads around them at the Gryffindor table to turn, and Ginny cleared away his empty plate just before his body fell forward on to the table from Hermione’s shoulder which could no longer support him.

 

Ron was fully conscious, however, and was able to speak to Ginny.  “It’s…Harry.  In…trouble… Gryffindor Tower… Needs help… I can’t…move.”  

 

Hermione had no clue what was going on, but Ginny had a pretty good idea.  That amulet was working, and somewhere Harry was in trouble and needed protection.  She scrambled out of her seat and grabbed Hermione by the robes, pulling her from her seat as well.  “Harry needs us.  Come on.  You too, Neville.”  Although Neville had been passively observing the scene, he did as he was told and quickly followed the other two out of the hall.  Anthony Goldstein had seen Hermione yanked out of her seat and ran after them as well.  

 

Seamus was shouting across the table,  “Ron, are you okay?  Should we get Madam Pomfrey?”

 

“No,” Ron said.  “I just… can’t… sit … up… No … strength.”  He closed his eyes, and saw an image of Harry, crouching on the floor with his hands and feet bound.  In his mind, he could hear Harry calling out, “I love you, Ron.  I love you.”  He answered back in his thoughts with all his might, “I love you too, Harry.  I’ll protect you.”

 

Parvati Patil had gone to fetch Professor McGonagall from the Staff table, and Susan Bones was sitting down next to him, gently asking if he was sick and wiping the beads of sweat off his forehead.  “Can’t… talk…” said Ron, and Susan nodded.  Ron felt he needed to focus on Harry, on his love for Harry, for as long as this feeling was upon him.

 

Then as suddenly as it began, the feeling passed and Ron regained all his strength.  He wasn’t sure if it had been two minutes or ten, but when he sat up at last, he felt like he had just run a marathon.  Actually, he felt as if he’d just won the marathon, because he was euphoric.  It had worked!  He was surer of that than anything in his whole life.  He knew that his amulet and his magic had just saved Harry’s life.  He looked around sheepishly at the small crowd that had gathered around him.  He’d never be able to explain the truth, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.  Professor McGonagall asked Seamus and Dean to escort him to the hospital wing and, with Susan holding his arm, he went without protest.  It was a small price to pay for the knowledge that he’d successfully fulfilled his role as Harry’s Protector.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

Harry turned his head and saw Professor Dumbledore coming towards him.  With a flick of his wand, he removed the bindings from Harry’s feet and hands.  Some green sparks shot out from it again, and the Jelly-Legs Jinx had been reversed.  Harry retrieved his wand and approached Dumbledore, who was now standing next to a stupefied Draco Malfoy.

 

“I can see that you are not the only student to receive extra tutoring this year,” said Dumbledore calmly.  “Mr. Malfoy seems to have picked up a few spells that are not a part of the approved Hogwarts curriculum.”  He gazed down the hall where Crabbe and Goyle lay motionless at the head of the stairs.  “Is that your handiwork, Harry?”

 

“Yes, sir,” answered Harry.  “I was trying to get all three of them, but Malfoy was too fast.”  Harry was quiet a moment, and then he asked, “Professor, how did you know to come here?

 

Professor Dumbledore peered at him over the top of his half-moon glasses.  His blue eyes were sparkling as usual, but there was little joy in his expression.  “I have known for some time that young Mr. Malfoy was in training to become a Death Eater.  You may not have heard that his father was released from Azkaban last November, and he has no doubt been teaching Draco the Unforgivables.  Therefore, I have been keeping a rather close watch on him.”

 

“But how is it that you got here just in time, though?  Another few seconds and he might have finished me off.”

 

“Or he might not have.  You seemed to have things well under control as I watched,” said Dumbledore.  “I only stepped in because I was not absolutely certain that the protection of Isis would withstand the killing curse, and I have no doubt that Mr. Malfoy has been taught how to use it very effectively.”

 

“So you were watching the whole time?” asked Harry, amazed.  “But I didn’t see you!”

 

Dumbledore smiled.  “I believe I have mentioned before that I do not require an Invisibility Cloak in order to hide myself from view.”

 

Harry stared at his feet, feeling a bit ashamed.  “So, then, you saw me fall for the oldest ploy in the book – the old ‘Look behind you’ trick.”

 

Dumbledore nodded and said, “Yes, it is common for inexperienced duelers to fall victim to that tactic.  However, I am sure that as a result of this experience, you’ll not do it again.  Sometimes we learn better by our failures than our victories.”

 

Just then they heard the pounding of running footsteps echoing in the stairway, and soon, four students appeared.  They stopped short when they saw Crabbe and Goyle, and heaved sighs of relief when they recognized Dumbledore and Harry standing over Malfoy’s limp body.

 

“Ah, here comes the cavalry,” muttered Dumbledore quietly, so that only Harry could hear it.  It made him laugh.

 

Ginny, Hermione, Neville and Anthony continued down the hall to where Dumbledore and Harry stood.  Hermione was the first to speak.  “Ron just sort of collapsed in the Great Hall and all he could say was that you were in trouble and you needed help,” she said, breathlessly.  “What happened?”

 

“Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle tried to jump me on my way down to dinner.  Fortunately my friends are more powerful than Malfoy’s.”  Harry noticed that Anthony seemed stunned that Harry would take this so calmly.

 

Dumbledore pointed his wand at Malfoy.  “ _Ennervate_ ,” he said.  Malfoy awoke to the horror that six people were standing over him, one of whom was the headmaster.  He started to speak, but Dumbledore interrupted him.  “I think it best, Mr. Malfoy, that you do not say a word until we arrive in my office.  Miss Granger and Mr. Goldstein, would you be so kind as to find Professor Snape and ask him to join me and Misters Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle in my office?”  

 

Hermione and Anthony hurried back down the stairs while the others stopped at the spot where Crabbe and Goyle rested.  Dumbledore revived them as well, and then suggested that Harry, Neville and Ginny return to the Great Hall to finish their meal.

 

As the three of them descended the stairs, Harry grilled them about Ron, and was amazed to learn that Ron had been able to communicate his location and situation to Ginny, even if he was unable to do anything about it himself.  Harry noticed that Neville was shaken, and he went out of his way to thank him for coming to his aid, even though it was not needed.  Neville seemed pleased to be appreciated.

 

“How did Ron know you were in trouble, though, Harry?” asked Neville.

 

Harry swallowed.  “Er...it was a telepathic spell Ron and I taught ourselves when we were goofing around over Christmas.  I wasn’t sure it would actually work, but I thought I’d give it a try.”  Harry deliberately avoided looking Ginny in the eye.

 

Ron had already been escorted to the hospital wing by the time they arrived in the Great Hall.  Harry found he was ravenous, and he enjoyed listening to all the speculation about what had happened to Ron to cause him to nearly faint.  When asked, he was vague about what had happened upstairs, preferring to let Professor Dumbledore cast whatever spin on the episode he wished.  

 

“Ginny, let’s go see if Ron’s okay,” said Harry finally.  She nodded and they left the Great Hall together holding hands.  Once they were in the hallway, Ginny started probing Harry to find out what happened to make him invoke Isis, but he refused to say, mentioning only that Malfoy had been prepared to kill him.  They met Dean, Seamus and Susan in the hospital wing corridor, who told them that Madam Pomfrey had just kicked them out.  “She likes me,” said Harry, grinning, and he dragged Ginny past them and through the door.

 

“No visitors,” said Madam Pomfrey.  “He needs rest.”

 

“I’m family,” said Ginny.  “You have to let me see him.  I’m worried.  And Harry’s with me, and he’s Ron’s best friend and he promises not to say a word, don’t you Harry?”  Harry nodded convincingly.

 

Madam Pomfrey sighed.  “Five minutes, and I mean it.”  

 

They pushed past her and found Ron lying on one of the beds in the dormitory wearing a huge grin across his face.  “I keep telling her I’m fine,” he said quietly, “but she won’t believe me.”

 

“Ginny, will you please keep watch for Madam Pomfrey a minute?” asked Harry.

 

Ginny was about to be annoyed, but then it dawned on her that she might not want to witness the two of them, so she turned her back and complied with Harry’s request.

 

Immediately their lips joined together and the kiss they shared expressed their collective relief, joy and unwavering love.  “It worked!” whispered Harry excitedly.  “Just like you told me it would. I called out to Isis and then I thought of you…”

 

Ron pulled him close, aching to feel Harry’s lips again.  They kissed some more, and he hugged Harry as if he were a lost child who had just been found.  “I want to hear exactly what happened,” said Ron.  He looked over at his sister and said, “Oi, Gin, it’s safe now.  Come sit over here by me. ”

 

Ginny sat on one side of Ron while Harry sat holding his hand on the other.  Harry told them exactly what had gone on between Malfoy and him.  Harry had already gathered, from what he heard from the crowd at dinner, that his cry for help to Isis happened at the exact time that Ron collapsed in the Great Hall.  “It was so strange,” said Harry, “that I didn’t feel anything different, well, except the Tyet of Isis became very hot around my neck. But then when Malfoy tried the Cruciatus curse on me, I couldn’t feel any pain at all.  It was like he hadn’t even done it.  At first I thought he messed it up, but when he got so mad that he kicked me, and I didn’t feel that either – well, I knew it had to be the amulet.”

 

Ron was sitting up now, his eyes gleaming at Harry and a cheerful grin on his face.  Harry stopped speaking and dropped his hand as they saw Madam Pomfrey approach.  “It’s time for your visitors to leave now, Mr. Weasley,” said Madam Pomfrey.  “If you rest here for a while, I’ll allow you sleep in your own bed tonight.”

 

Harry was anxious to have Ron back in the dormitory, so he left without a fuss.  On the way back to Gryffindor Tower, Ginny was very quiet.  When Harry finally noticed this, he asked, “Are you upset about something?  I think Ron’s going to be fine.  Madam Pomfrey is always overly cautious.”

 

“It’s not Ron,” said Ginny timidly.  “It’s you.  It was another close call for you and you’re acting like it was this big experiment that happened to work right the first time.  But you could have been killed!  I’m sure Malfoy would have killed you if he could have.”

 

They had reached the Fat Lady and Harry said the password.  Hermione must have gone off with Anthony, because she was nowhere to be seen.  Harry pulled Ginny to a vacant corner and sat down next to her on a couch.  Ginny’s emotional outburst reminded Harry all too much of the way Ron had reacted to his last near-death experience this past November.  He was already concerned that she cared too much about him, and this reaction seemed to confirm his suspicions.  He could tell it was time to have the conversation he’d been dreading; he could no longer let things go on the way they were.

 

“Ginny, we need to talk.  I’m not sure how much longer I can keep up this pretend romance with you.” There, he said it.  He felt terrible, but at least they’d get things out in the open.

 

Ginny was in shock.  She had not expected anything like this to come out of his mouth, especially not tonight.  She thought it was going well.  She didn’t think he hated spending the time with her.  In fact, she was enjoying the fact that they were closer than they’d ever been.  Harry was finally starting to treat her as a person and not just Ron’s little sister.  “What’s wrong with things the way they are?” Ginny asked.

 

Harry took a deep breath.  She was making this difficult.  Maybe he was reading her emotions incorrectly and she was fine.  He’d have to find out.  “Things between us are great, as long as you overlook the fact that they’re based on a total lie.  Ginny, I like hanging out with you, and you’re beautiful and funny.  But I don’t feel the same way for you as you do for me.”

 

“How do you even know how I feel?” she snapped back, eyes narrowed accusingly.

 

“Dean told me why you two broke up,” said Harry, who was suddenly finding his fingernails very interesting.

 

Ginny laughed unconvincingly.  “He believed what I told him then?  That’s good.  I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.  I thought it would be kinder than to say he just didn’t thrill me anymore.”

 

Harry examined her skeptically.  He didn’t believe her for even one moment.  True, she was a much better liar than Ron, but she still got the telltale red ears when she was under pressure, and hers were flaming right now.  He put his arm around her chastely, and said quietly, “You deserve better than this. You being my pretend girlfriend is great for me, but what is it doing for you? You should be with someone who will treat you like you’re the most special person in the universe.  Ginny, I can’t be that person for you.  My heart and soul belongs to Ron.  I see so many of the things I love about Ron in you, but I just don’t have the same feelings for you as I do for him.  You’ll never find the one who can capture your heart if everyone thinks you’re dating me.”

 

Tears welled up in Ginny’s eyes.  How could he be breaking up with her when they weren’t actually going out?  How could this happen?  It mustn’t happen.  She heard the words he was saying, but she didn’t want to accept them.  For five years her world had revolved around him.  Didn’t Harry see that _her_ heart and soul belonged to him?  He may not love her like she deserved, but he liked her, and they had fun together.  For five wonderful weeks she had been the first-ever girlfriend of The Boy Who Lived.  She wasn’t about to give that up, feeling the way she did about him.  She’d have to lighten up a bit.

 

Ginny took a few deep breaths and said calmly, “Harry, thanks for caring about my feelings.  You’re right – we probably should break it off.  It’s just that there is no one who really interests me right now.  And if I do this for you, and for Ron too, then I feel like I’m being useful and am doing my small part for the war effort.  You know…you fight You-Know-Who, Ron keeps you safe, and I help keep Ron happy.  As for what’s in it for me… I like the attention of being Harry Potter’s girlfriend.  You’re fun to be with, and a fair kisser too.  Plus, it keeps Justin Finch-Fletchley from asking me out every week.”

 

Harry laughed.  “Well, Ginny, think about what I said.  I have no intention of pushing you away if you want to continue this farce.  Like I said, it’s great for me.  But the second you want out, you say so, okay?  I’ll even let you dump me loudly in the middle of the library.”

 

Deep down, Harry knew it wasn’t right to drag this relationship on.  But he didn’t have the heart to press the issue.  He’d been honest, and he’d told her in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t in love with her.  If she wanted to continue to act this out, how could he stop her?

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

Professor McGonagall called him into her office that evening to tell him that Draco Malfoy would not be expelled, but would have a week’s worth of detentions for attacking another student.  Dumbledore believed that it would be to their advantage to allow Malfoy to stay where Dumbledore could keep an eye on him.  Malfoy’s memory had been modified so that he had no knowledge that he had been unable to penetrate Harry’s protective force with the Cruciatus curse (or his foot).  This would keep him from passing the information back to his father and the Death Eaters.

 

“We must ask you to refrain from mentioning anything that happened in the hallway to the other students.  And, even though it is within your rights to demand justice for what Mr. Malfoy did, Professor Dumbledore asks that you consider the impact of such a move on his plan.  Is this acceptable to you, Potter?” she asked in her stern and business-like manner.

 

“Er, yeah, I’ll do whatever Dumbledore wants.”  Harry thought for a moment.  “Is Malfoy going to be allowed to play Quidditch?”

 

“The Headmaster did not discuss denying any privileges to Mr. Malfoy except for the detentions.  I assume he will still be allowed to play,” said Professor McGonagall.  “And since Hufflepuff has a strong team this year and the point spread between the houses is very close, I would suggest you do not make an issue of it.”

 

Harry decided she had a fair point.  What if the person Slytherin put in the Seeker position to replace him was actually good?  Slytherin might still be able to win the Quidditch cup due to higher points.  “I guess you’re right.  Er, did Professor Dumbledore say anything else he wants me to do, Professor?”

 

She looked at him over the top of her glasses.  “Yes.  He would like you to focus your efforts on your lessons, and on enjoying your friends and the rest of your time at Hogwarts.”  She smiled.  “That is all.”

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

On the morning of his birthday, Ron awoke to find Harry lying next to him in his bed, watching him in the semi-darkness with a cheerful smile on his face.  He checked to see that the curtains were drawn, and quietly whispered, “Harry, what do you think you’re doing?”

 

“I’m here about your birthday present,” Harry breathed into Ron’s ear.  

 

Ron looked at him with one eyebrow raised. “That’s great, but isn’t this a little bit risky?  What if they wake up and hear us talking?” Ron whispered back.

 

“Who said anything about talking?” grinned Harry. He licked playfully at Ron’s earlobe and snaked his hand under the covers.  When Ron realized what he was about to do, he became hard almost instantly, and Harry smiled with delight when he discovered Ron’s excitement.  As Harry wrapped his hand around Ron’s cock, he whispered, “Don’t breathe too hard or they’ll hear you.”

 

Merlin, but he had missed Harry’s touch.  He willed himself to take long, deep breaths, mimicking sleep and helping him to control the feelings he knew would overtake him if given the chance.  Harry’s lips were slowly working their way down his neck, and his tongue found the hollow in his throat and proceeded to drive him wild with desire.  Ron didn’t dare move, though, for fear of waking up the others, so he concentrated on accepting all of this pleasure without making a noise.  He held back the moan that bubbled up to his throat.  He wasn’t sure how much longer he could do this, but he certainly didn’t want Harry to stop.  _In…out…in…out…keep breathing deeply…_

 

Harry gently pulled back the covers past Ron’s knees.  Before Ron could stop him, Harry had taken his cock into his mouth, sucking it in until the tip hit the back of his throat.  Ron let out an audible gasp, and quickly put a hand over his mouth to cover the noises he couldn’t hold back.  Harry seemed to be able to sense how close Ron was to release, because each time Ron thought he could last no longer, Harry would slow down, or tease the soft skin of his abdomen for a while.  After what seemed like hours of this exquisite pleasure – long past the time his limbs had gone numb – Harry allowed him to come, and he convulsed silently, his face grimacing as the assault on his senses came to a head.  With a quick kiss on the lips and a quiet “Happy Birthday,” Harry silently crept back to his own bed.  Ron couldn’t move for half an hour.  _“God, as long as I live I’ll never have a better birthday present than that!”_ he thought.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

With NEWTs rapidly approaching, nearly all the seventh-years stayed at Hogwarts for the Easter holidays.  Most of the Gryffindor Quidditch team was there, so Harry booked the field for every afternoon just so they would have a good excuse for a study break.  Fortunately, the weather was cooperative so they were able to get out and enjoy the fresh air and sunshine, which helped everyone’s mood.

 

Ron burst into the circular dormitory one afternoon with so much enthusiasm after an excellent Quidditch practice that he startled Neville, who knocked his book bag off his bed.  Its contents went flying all over the floor of the dormitory, and he looked forlornly at Ron.

 

“Sorry, Neville,” said Ron, bending down to pick up several books and papers that landed in front of his bed.

 

Neville got up in search of a bottle of ink that had rolled underneath Harry’s bed.  As he reached under the bed to pick it up, he felt something thin and squirmy and alive.  He wrapped his fingers around it and his hand emerged holding up a rat by its tail.  “We’re going to have to let Crookshanks up here to keep the rats away,” said Neville.  Ron made a disgusted face as Neville examined the rat more closely.  “Hey Ron, look!” exclaimed Neville.  “Doesn’t this rat look just like Scabbers?  But it can’t be – he died, didn’t he?”

 

Ron turned on his heel to take a look just in time to see Scabbers begin to transfigure into a man.  As he started to change, Neville flung him away, and Peter Pettigrew appeared, looking somewhat disheveled, in the center of the room.  Ron and Neville were paralyzed with shock, giving Pettigrew a chance to collect himself and draw his wand before they could react.  Neville’s wand was across the room on his bed, and as Ron reached in his pocket, he heard Pettigrew yell, “ _Accio wand_ ,” and it flew to him.  Pointing one wand at each of them, he motioned for them to stand together, and they saw no other alternative than to comply.

 

“Well, if it isn’t my old master Ron,” said Pettigrew in his squeaky, rat-like voice, “it seems we meet again after all.  I was hoping to collect Potter and get out of here without being spotted, but I suppose it’s always nice to visit old friends.”

 

Ron could hardly believe the audacity of this man – the despicable vermin that was responsible for the death of Harry’s parents – calmly having a conversation with him in the middle of his dormitory, as if they had just met in a shop.  He eyed Pettigrew contemptuously.  “What do you mean, ‘collect Potter’?” asked Ron, stalling for time.  He knew that Harry couldn’t be that far behind him, and would hopefully not burst in on them as he had done to Neville. “He’s not going anywhere with the likes of you, and if you’re smart, you’ll be long gone by the time he gets back or you’ll be begging for your pathetic, miserable life.”

 

“Pathetic, am I?  Well, maybe I was pathetic the last time I saw you, but that was before my real Master returned.  We’ll see how well I am rewarded when I finally fulfill my mission and deliver the last Potter to my Lord!  In the meantime, I just need to figure out what to do with the two of you.  I can’t very well have you spoiling things now, can I?”  Pettigrew raised his wand, and Ron and Neville glanced nervously at each other as they prepared for the worst.

 

“ _Stupefy_!” echoed Harry’s voice from the doorway.  Pettigrew fell to the ground, stunned.

 

Ron looked up at him with relief.  “Brilliant timing, Harry.  Thanks!” 

 

Harry looked at them with concern.  “You’re all right, then?  He didn’t hurt you?”

 

“No, he was about to when you stunned him.  How much did you hear?” asked Ron.

 

Harry bent down and picked up Ron’s wand from the floor where Peter Pettigrew had dropped it.  Harry handed Ron his wand, while he tried to express his relief to him with his eyes. “Just long enough to recognize the voice and figure out you were in trouble.  Why, what did he say? ”

 

Ron quickly relayed what Pettigrew had told them. “Look, we’d better get someone.  McGonagall, do you reckon, or Dumbledore?” asked Ron.

 

Harry thought for a moment.  “Both.  I’ll stay here and guard Wormtail.  No offense, but I’m the best one here at Defense Against Dark Arts. Would you find them, Ron?  Hermione was in the common room a minute ago – she’s Head Girl, she’ll know where they are.”

 

“Yeah, I’ll go.  Be careful, though, Harry.  He’s a slippery git, that one.”  Ron raced out of the room leaving Harry pointing his wand at Pettigrew and anxiously watching a cowering Neville.  Neville had said nothing and looked to be in complete shock.  He, of course, had known nothing about Scabbers’ being an animagus or anything about Pettigrew either.

 

“Harry, what’s going on?” asked Neville, hesitantly. “Do you know this man?”  He sat down on the end of his bed, and Harry could see he was trembling.

 

“Yes, Neville,” said Harry.  His eyes were as cold as steel as they stared at the slumping figure of Pettigrew.  “This man was one of my dad’s best friends at Hogwarts, and he repaid my dad’s trust in him by selling my parents out to Voldemort. He was a spy for Voldemort and told him where my parents were after they went into hiding from him.  And he’s an animagus, and went into hiding as Scabbers the rat after killing twelve Muggles, faking his own death, and framing Sirius Black for the crime.”  Harry’s rage was bubbling up to the surface, and Neville could see that his knuckles were white from gripping his wand so tightly.

 

Neville spoke timidly.  “So he wasn’t joking when he said he was going to deliver you to You-Know-Who.  I thought he might be one of those weirdoes who follow around famous people and make threats...”

 

He was interrupted by the sound of trampling feet bounding up the stairs, and soon Ron entered the room followed closely by Professor McGonagall and Hermione.  Hermione gasped when she saw Pettigrew lying on the ground as if dead.  Professor McGonagall stood next to Harry and immediately took charge in her usual stern manner.

 

“Potter, did he see you before you stunned him?”

 

“No, Professor, I don’t think so,” stammered Harry.  “I just...”

 

Professor McGonagall cut him off. “Good.  I don’t want you anywhere near him while he is on the castle grounds.  Professor Dumbledore is away, and I have summoned him, but until he arrives, I will not take any chances with your safety, Potter.  Do you understand?”

 

Harry said nothing.  Should he tell her that he had been just seconds from killing Pettigrew as he lay there, exacting the revenge that he was too naive to carry out four years ago?  She interpreted his silence as awaiting instructions, however, and the next thing he knew she was speaking again.

 

“You shall go to Professor Dumbledore’s office and wait for him there.  You know the password?” she asked, looking him in the eye.  Harry nodded.

 

Before she could continue, Ron interrupted, “Professor, may I wait with Harry?  You don’t know how long it’s going to be, and I could keep him company...”

 

Professor McGonagall definitely didn’t want to debate the matter.  “Very well, Weasley.  Now, Miss Granger, I would like you to gather all the remaining Gryffindors in the Great Hall – tell them they need to leave the tower immediately to wait for an important message.  Once the coast is clear, Professors Snape and Flitwick will help me escort our prisoner to a holding area to wait for Dumbledore’s instructions.”  She looked at them gaping at her and said suddenly, “Well, what are you waiting for?  Everybody move.”

 

Harry, Ron and Hermione left the circular room and began to gather all the Gryffindors to send them away.  After Ron had searched the boys’ dormitories and sent everyone downstairs, he and Harry disappeared through the portrait hole.  On their way down the stairs, they passed Flitwick and Snape, the latter of whom glared at Harry with contempt, as if this had been another stunt Harry pulled to try to get around the rules.  When they were well out of earshot, Harry muttered something under his breath that sounded like “I’ll get my revenge on you too” to Ron.

 

When they reached the stone gargoyle in front of Dumbledore’s office, Harry spoke the password and he and Ron climbed onto the moving stairs.  The office was deserted, and was uncharacteristically untidy, as if Dumbledore might have left in a hurry.  Ron noticed the portraits sneaking glances at them, keeping an ever-watchful eye on whoever might have just arrived.

 

Harry was strangely quiet as they sat side-by-side in the wooden chairs opposite Dumbledore’s desk.  Ron was sure this meant that Harry was contemplating his next move in the war effort.  It was one thing to wait patiently for Dumbledore’s plan to come to fruition as long as he was safely tucked in the castle, but after the second attempt on his life in a month, Harry was obviously considering how best to persuade Dumbledore to let him get on with it.  Ron wanted to say something comforting to him, but he could think of nothing to say that Harry would be able to take seriously.  He reached over and took Harry’s hand, and Harry smiled at him, obviously pleased that Ron had talked his way into joining him.  Still he said nothing, though, and it was a long while before Ron broke the silence.

 

“What do you reckon Dumbledore is going to do with Wormtail?” Ron asked.

 

“If there’s any justice in the world, he’ll see that he has a drawn-out, painful, violent death,” answered Harry with a sigh.  “But knowing Dumbledore, he’ll cave in and give him a second chance to redeem himself.  Isn’t that what he always does?  Gives second chances when no one else will?”

 

Ron shook his head in horror.  “But he sold out your parents, and they were friends of Dumbledore’s.  Even he couldn’t forgive that, could he?”  Ron looked around at the portraits and saw that their occupants were no longer bothering the feign sleep but were peering down at Harry and Ron with much interest.

 

“I don’t know what to think anymore, Ron,” said Harry.  Ron noticed for the first time that he looked easily twice as old as his seventeen years.  “All I know is that I’m tired of waiting for something to happen.  We should just get on with it.”  He let go of Ron’s hand and stood up to pace the floor.  There would be no reasoning with Harry while he was in this particular mood.  Better to be quiet than become the recipient of Harry’s bad temper.

 

They were startled when an ancient house-elf appeared bearing a large try of food and pumpkin juice.  They ate, more for something to do than because they were hungry, and Harry seemed to be in better spirits once his stomach was full.  They bantered lightly about Quidditch, and Ginny and Susan and girls in general.  Ron wondered aloud why they couldn’t wait in a different room that might have everything they required.   Harry cast him a disapproving look, but grinned nonetheless.

 

They were well into their third hour of waiting when Dumbledore entered the office.  He seemed quite amused to find them lounging in large upholstered armchairs, having transfigured Dumbledore’s straight-backed wooden chairs into something a bit more comfortable.  Harry stood up to switch them back, but Dumbledore raised his hand and said, “No, no, by all means leave them as they are.  There’s no reason you shouldn’t enjoy all the creature comforts you can.”

 

“Well, Harry, from what I understand, Mr. Longbottom accidentally discovered Voldemort’s latest plot to set the timing of your next battle.  Once again the fates have smiled on us.  I must admit that, although I considered the possibility, I never expected him to be so bold as to try to snatch you from under my nose.”  Dumbledore had seated himself behind his desk and was looking vaguely at the papers strewn about it.  For a minute, Ron felt that he had completely forgotten they were there, but Harry seemed quite content to wait, as if this were a regular occurrence when consulting with Dumbledore.

 

“Professor Snape is learning what he can from Pettigrew’s mind as we speak, and we shall see if our intruder has any information for us about Voldemort’s new, unexpected strategy.”

 

Ron answered Professor Dumbledore’s questions about the events that transpired in the dormitory prior to Harry’s arrival.  As they spoke, Dumbledore kept rising from his chair and pacing behind his desk, as if highly agitated about something.  After Ron had shared everything he knew, Dumbledore lapsed into another silent spell.

 

Several minutes later, the door to Dumbledore’s office flew open, and Snape rushed in, looking as if he had dashed all the way from the dungeons at full speed.  He made no apology to Dumbledore for interrupting, but said quickly, “Sir, I have learned something quite surprising, and I thought you ought to know at once.”  Snape looked down and noticed Ron and Harry, sitting comfortably in their conjured armchairs, and he sneered at them with a good deal of distain.  “Shall I...wait...until you are finished here?” he asked, sweeping his gaze at Ron and Harry.

 

“No, Severus, tell me now.  I trust Misters Potter and Weasley to keep all they hear in strict confidence.”

 

Snape hesitated, but only for a moment.  “It appears we were incorrect in assuming that the Dark Lord sent Pettigrew here to capture Potter.  Pettigrew is nearly beside himself with fear that the Dark Lord will find out that he disobeyed orders and came here of his own accord in hopes of becoming some kind of a hero.  He is correct to be afraid, too, as those who disobey are dealt with most harshly – especially if they are compromised in the process.”

 

Suddenly Dumbledore caught Harry’s eye, and his aspect changed from one of bewilderment to triumph.  Harry sat up straighter in his chair, as if understanding that the next words to be issued from Dumbledore’s mouth would be important.  “This news of Peter Pettigrew’s motives changes everything, Harry,” he said purposefully.  “I would not have thought it possible to have such a stroke of luck cast before us, but the opportunity is upon us to act, and we must do so hastily.”

 

Ron watched as a dim smile crossed Harry’s face.  He knew that – more than anything – Harry wanted to get on with his task, and it sounded as if the time had come.  Ron felt a rush of anxiety in the pit of his stomach, but Harry looked exhilarated. 

 

Dumbledore rose from his seat once again.  “It will take a while to pull everyone together.  Severus, please return to our captive and see if you can learn anything more.  I will meet you there in half an hour.”  Snape nodded and disappeared out the door.  “It’s too late to do anything before tomorrow morning.  We will meet in the Great Hall for breakfast at seven o’clock, Harry.  You should bring with you a change of clothes, your wand, of course, and your Invisibility Cloak.  Everything else you’ll need is at Headquarters.”  Harry nodded, excitedly.

 

“What about me?” asked Ron.  

 

Dumbledore stared at him for a moment, and then said gently, “We will be needing you to stay at Hogwarts, Ron.”  Ron’s face distorted with anger at the idea of being left behind while Harry got to fight, but the expression on Dumbledore’s face silenced the protest that was about to emerge from his mouth.  “I believe we discussed your role in this battle at some length,” said Dumbledore sternly.  “Now that we know exactly _how_ the Tyet of Isis will work to protect Harry, we can’t risk having you collapse at a place where we will be unable to protect you.  I need not remind you that without you safe and strong, Harry’s protection is useless.”  Dumbledore stared at Ron until he nodded.  He hated it that Dumbledore was right.

 

Dumbledore scribbled a short note and magically sealed it.  He handed it to Harry.  “If you would please deliver this to Professor McGonagall and ask that she make arrangements to discreetly cover your sudden absence... No need to alert the Malfoys that you’re no longer in the castle.  Then, once that task is done, you are free to say your goodbyes.  If I need to contact you, I’ll send Fawkes, who will be able to find you wherever you happen to be.” His eyes twinkled over his half-moon glasses.  “Make sure to enjoy your friends and your remaining time at Hogwarts.”

 

“So does this mean, sir, that I should plan to be gone a long time?” asked Harry.

 

He smiled.  “You will be gone for as long as it takes to vanquish Voldemort.  You know the risks, Harry, but until we get close enough to him to learn the extent of his power, I cannot predict whether it will be one day, one week or one month.  He may have forces about which I know nothing, but we have had too many things go our way for me to have anything but complete confidence in the eventual outcome.”

 

Ron and Harry got up to leave, changed their chairs back to their original condition, and shook hands with Professor Dumbledore.  As he shook Ron’s hand, Dumbledore said with the utmost sincerity, “Harry has reminded me on more than one occasion that it is miserable to be the one left behind while others perform their appointed tasks.  Let me say in no uncertain terms that I consider your role to be nearly as vital to my plan as Harry’s.  I have grown quite fond of him over the years, you see, and I would be most distressed if anything happened to him.”  

 

Ron nodded.  “I’ll do everything I can, Professor.”  The portraits called out words of encouragement to Harry as he and Ron left the room in search of Professor McGonagall.


	8. THE ROAD TO GROUND ZERO

Professor McGonagall was just returning to her office from the dungeons. She smiled when she saw Harry and Ron at her door and motioned for them to come in. "You’ve seen Professor Dumbledore then?" she asked.

Harry handed her the note from Dumbledore. "Yes, Professor. He asked us to bring you this note and make arrangements for me to leave in the morning."

She looked up suddenly, quite startled by this news. "Leaving? In the morning?" Harry nodded, and watched her as she worked through the ramifications of his words. "I see." Professor McGonagall opened the note from Dumbledore and Harry and Ron watched her blanch as her eyes moved down the parchment. She set the note on the desk and gazed at Harry over the top of her glasses. "Professor Dumbledore has asked that I make arrangements for a surreptitious long term absence. You should know that I’ve just told the Gryffindor students about an intruder and, not surprisingly, they all seem to think he was after you. I think we’ll start with the story that you’re being kept in a separate area of the castle for your own safety." She turned to Ron. "You will let your dormitory mates know that you have seen Harry occasionally, so that we can keep the exact timing of his departure a secret."

"What about the Quidditch team, Professor?" asked Harry. "D’you think Ron could be captain while I’m gone?" He looked over at Ron, who smiled at him gratefully.

"Yes, that would be fine. We’ve got to pretend that it’s business as usual. Is Evans any good at Seeker?"

"He’s not Harry, but he’s practiced a fair amount," answered Ron. "Good thing we’re playing Ravenclaw. Their new Seeker is pathetic."

Minerva McGonagall rose from her chair and walked around the desk to face Harry. In a most uncharacteristic move, she caught him in a tight embrace and gasped, "Good luck, Potter. We’ll be planning a great feast for your triumphant homecoming. Hurry back." As she turned quickly around, Ron could see the tears streaking from her eyes. It made him feel like crying too.

"Goodbye, then," said Harry, "and thank you for everything, Professor." She waved her handkerchief at him and they headed quickly out the door.

* * * * *

"I’ll bet she’s in the library with Anthony," said Harry. Ron nodded in agreement. "Say, Ron, would you do me a favor and head back to Gryffindor Tower to round up the Quidditch team? I should probably say something to them about you being captain while I’m gone. I’ll go to the library and convince Hermione to come back with me and meet you there."

"Okay," said Ron, apprehensively. He was not sure he should be letting Harry out of his sight. He was feeling very protective and didn’t think twenty minutes apart was all that great an idea. However, he knew it would just annoy Harry if he didn’t do what was asked of him, and he didn’t want to spend their last night together arguing.

Harry entered the library and it was mostly empty with the exception of several groups of fifth-years and, predictably, Hermione and Anthony. He watched them for a moment and realized that very little studying was actually being accomplished this evening, but a lot of whispers and flirtatious expressions were being exchanged. He felt a little guilty intruding on their time together, but this was important and he had only a few hours left to say everything he needed Hermione to hear.

Harry approached their table and sat down. Hermione and Anthony actually seemed relieved to see him. "Hi," said Harry smiling.

"Oh, Harry, I’m so glad to see you. I wasn’t sure how long you were going to have to wait in Dumbledore’s office. What did he say?" asked Hermione.

"Well, that’s why I’m here. Dumbledore’s going to move me to a secret area of the castle tomorrow, and he’s not sure how long I’m going to have to stay there. Could even be until the end of the term."

Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth as she gasped, and Anthony looked shocked. "Do you mean Dumbledore thinks there are going to be more attempts on your life?" whispered Anthony. Hermione had obviously filled him in on the afternoon’s events.

Harry nodded. "I’m not worried for myself, but this last intruder almost attacked Ron and Neville. It’s frustrating that I have to hide out, but I agree with Dumbledore that I can’t be endangering my friends just because Voldemort has unfinished business with me." Anthony cringed as Harry said the name. "So, er, I was wondering if I could talk Hermione into coming back to Gryffindor Tower for a while. You know, just to say goodbye." He looked at Hermione meaningfully, and then shot a pleading look at Anthony.

"Of course, Harry," said Hermione quickly. She turned to Anthony, "You don’t mind, do you?"

"No, not under the circumstances." Anthony stood up and reached his hand across the table to Harry who shook it. "You take care, mate. We’ll miss you."

"Thanks," said Harry, standing up too. Hermione kissed Anthony and whispered something into his ear, and Harry quickly turned his back to give them a little privacy. Soon Hermione caught up to him and he turned to give Anthony a nod of thanks.

As Harry and Hermione strolled through the deserted hallways to Gryffindor Tower, Harry filled in Hermione on the real plan. "So you leave in the morning, but we’re all supposed to act as if you’re still in the castle somewhere in hiding? Do you really think people will believe that?" asked Hermione.

"I don’t know," said Harry. "McGonagall thought it would work. Eventually someone might figure it out, but hopefully it will be too late for anyone to guess where I’ve gone. You can be a big help, though, by telling people you’ve been to visit me from time to time."

"Of course," agree Hermione, "I’ll say whatever Professor McGonagall wants me too." She paused. "But Harry, what about your NEWTs?"

"What about them?" shrugged Harry. "If I get back in time I’ll take them. If not, well, there’s always next year." Hermione seemed a little put off by his casual response. "Look, Hermione, having top grade NEWTs doesn’t matter to me as long as Voldemort is out there waiting to kill me. Nobody is safe, especially someone like you, as long as he’s out there causing mayhem and trying to take over." Hermione nodded, knowing he was talking about her and others with Muggle parents.

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Before he could say the password, Hermione caught Harry in a big hug and they embraced without saying anything for a long while. Finally Hermione whispered, "It’s not going to be the same without you here."

Harry patted the long brown hair that flowed down her back. He was at a loss for words, but managed to say, "It’s all right. I’ll be back soon." Of course, he had no idea if it was true, but it seemed to make Hermione feel better just the same.

They entered the common room and the Gryffindor Quidditch team was assembled in one corner of the room. They clearly had no idea why they had been gathered, as they were laughing, joking and teasing one another – all except for Ron, who was sitting quietly. His face lit up when Harry and Hermione entered the room.

Harry said, "Er, Hermione, I need to break the news to the Quidditch team. Will you wait around for a little while?"

"Of course I will. I’ll just go put my things in my room." He watched her as she disappeared through the doorway to the girls’ dormitory.

The Quidditch team took the news of Harry’s leaving the team very hard. Ginny was near tears, and Andrew lamented loudly that they were so close to winning the Quidditch Cup this year that it was unthinkable that Dumbledore could take Harry away at a time like this.

"Professor McGonagall has named Ron captain for as long as I’m unable to play. Most of the strategies we’ve been working on were Ron’s ideas to begin with, so I expect you to play as well as you always have, if not better, without me around." Harry looked at Evans, a second year who had been named a reserve in the fall and had been training with the team all year, with an eye towards being next years’ Seeker. "You’re really improving, mate, and I think you’re already better than the Ravenclaw Seeker. Look, you lot are so much better than Ravenclaw this year that playing the game is just a formality. You have over a month to train for the last match – you’ll be brilliant. I’m hoping that if I am still in hiding at that point, that Dumbledore will at least let me out to watch you."

Harry shared some last minute tips about how to play against Ravenclaw and then excused himself to where Hermione was sitting, curled up with her old astronomy book and feverishly flipping between charts. She glanced at him and motioned for him to sit. "Hold on one minute," she said.

At last Hermione looked up at him with a satisfied smile. "Just as I thought," she said smugly. She handed Harry a small glass vial. "Put a couple of your hairs in there, would you?"

"Why?" asked Harry hesitantly. Ron and Ginny had come over to join them, and were watching Harry and the glass vial with curiosity.

"Because I just calculated how soon we could have a batch of Polyjuice Potion ready, and if we start stewing the lacewings tomorrow, we can have it ready in twenty-one days. The full moon will fall at the perfect time for adding the fluxweed."

"Polyjuice Potion! What do you want with that stuff?" asked Ron. He remembered all too well how horrible it tasted as well as how long it took Hermione to recover from turning into Millicent Bulstrode’s cat.

"If people start becoming too suspicious, one of us can turn into Harry for an hour and make sure we’re seen by a number of...influential...people."

Harry smiled. "Like Malfoy, you mean." He pulled several hairs out of his head and placed them in the vial.

Hermione nodded. "Well, he is an obvious choice. But really, even if you were seen at a Quidditch match or having breakfast in the Great Hall..."

"But how’re you going to do this, Hermione?" interrupted Ron. "You can’t break into Snape’s private stores of ingredients? Someone has already done that, so he’s sure to be watching closely."

"I’ve already thought of that," said Hermione. "I’m going to ask Professor McGonagall to request that Snape give me the ingredients and some space in one of the extra potions labs where I can make it undisturbed and keep it locked up. I’m sure she’ll do it, and even if Snape doesn’t like it, he’ll have to go along. He is in the Order, after all."

Harry was suddenly distracted by uncontrollable sobs that were coming from Ginny. She was sitting beside Harry, and he put his arm around her and pulled her closer. "What’s wrong, Ginny?" he asked, knowing exactly what her problem was.

"I’m sorry," she bawled, "but I just don’t want you to go away." She buried her face in his robes and continued to sob silently. He was really beginning to hate these goodbyes. 

Harry pulled Ginny to her feet and the two of them went to a vacant area where they could talk in private. Ron was highly annoyed by his sister’s behavior, but Hermione, who still had no idea that Harry and Ginny weren’t really dating, was sympathetic and pulled on Ron’s sleeve to keep him from following them.

Some twenty minutes later, Ginny had pulled herself together and was even smiling and laughing with Harry as they returned to the table where Ron and Hermione were planning their strategy of how they were going to convince the other students that Harry was still on the castle grounds. She sat down next to Hermione, and Harry leaned over and kissed Ginny on the cheek.

"I’ve got other people to talk to before I leave," said Harry, but if you want to see me off tomorrow morning, meet me down here at six-thirty." Ginny nodded and patted his hand. "Ron, are you coming with me? I’ve got to pack, and I want to talk to Neville, Seamus and Dean."

"Yeah," Ron said, following Harry up the stairs to the dormitory.

It was after nine o’clock by the time Harry had packed his things and talked to everyone he wanted to see. His last errand was to the Owlery, to say goodbye to Hedwig. As he rose to leave the dormitory, he stopped by Ron’s bed and handed him a note and a weathered old piece of parchment that Ron recognized as the Marauder’s Map. Then he said loudly, "I’m supposed to go over my new tutoring schedule with McGonagall at nine-thirty. I have no idea how long that will take, so if I don’t see you, Goodnight." 

Ron was confused, but he said "goodnight" along with Neville and Dean, who were also in the room. As Harry walked out the door, Ron read the note.

 

> "Meet me in the Room of Requirement as soon after 9:30 as you can get there. Use the Map to make sure you aren’t followed."

 

Ron grinned. Sure, it was a bit risky, but at this point, it didn’t really matter who found out. Harry would be gone tomorrow, and with any luck, You-Know-Who would be gone soon after that. But tonight Ron had no intention of worrying about the war. He just wanted to spend every possible minute with Harry that he could.

 

* * * * *

 

"Sorry," said Ron as he rushed in to the Room of Requirement. Harry was sitting cross-legged on the furry rug staring into the fire. "Peeves was lurking in the stairwell, and I had to take the long way around." He locked the door behind him and joined Harry on the rug. "Being here tonight is a little risky, don’t you think?"

Harry cocked an eyebrow at Ron. "Didn’t you hear what Dumbledore said?"

Ron thought for a moment. "I guess not."

"When Dumbledore says something like, ‘If I need to contact you I’ll send Fawkes,’ he is really saying ‘I fully expect you and Ron to be somewhere you’re not supposed to be and that’s okay with me.’ So it’s almost like he was assuming we would be together here."

"Oh!" exclaimed Ron. He hadn’t thought of that.

Ron gazed at Harry’s face and noticed, once again, that he looked far older than his age. The stress of waiting had sprouted wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and his brows appeared to be permanently furrowed. This Harry was very far removed from the carefree boy who had opened a mound of presents on Christmas morning. Ron gently caressed Harry’s cheek with his thumb and looked into his eyes. "Worried?" he asked.

"A little, I guess," answered Harry. "I’ve never gone out looking for him before. Those other times, he was looking for me, and I was surprised by him and unprepared. It’s so different this time – there’s so much more at stake." He turned back to look at the fire. Ron wasn’t sure if he should give Harry time to think or try to get his mind off the journey ahead of him. He was just about to speak when Harry suddenly turned to him.

"Ron," said Harry abruptly, "I’ve got to tell you something. If I, er…if I don’t come back, I want you to know that you can have any of my stuff that you want. Dumbledore made me fill out a will for my gold, but all my things are up for grabs; Hedwig, too. Make sure someone takes good care of her."

Ron shook his head. He knew Harry was going to bring this up at some point. "You ought to be having this conversation with Hermione, because if you go, then so do I. Don’t you understand this Tyet of Isis thing at all, Harry? My entire role in this war is to save your sorry arse. The only two things that will keep this from happening are if you forget to invoke Isis, or if I’m dead. So you’d better have Hermione be in charge of Hedwig."

Harry’s face brightened, as if Ron’s words had cheered him up or else reminded him that his fate was resting on more that just luck and Harry’s own abilities. A lot of wizards and witches were working hard to make sure Dumbledore’s plan would succeed. As hard as Harry wanted to deny it, Ron’s amulet had proven to perform as expected, so there was no reason to think it couldn’t save him again.

"You’re right," said Harry. "God, how I hope you are right." For the first time in a long time, Harry wanted more than anything to defeat Voldemort and live a normal life with Ron by his side. He was not afraid of death, but his will to live was very strong.

Ron wrapped his arms tightly around Harry and said softly, "I’m going to take care of you, Harry Potter. And I’m going to start right now." His lips found Harry’s, and they kissed hungrily, both aware that this encounter might well be their last.

* * * * *

The alarm clock woke them at five o’clock, and they reluctantly gave up the warmth of each other’s body to dress. Ron was groggy, having been startled out of a wonderful dream in which he and Harry were embracing after having won the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor. Harry, on the other hand, was completely alert and was setting about the task of gathering their things in a business-like fashion. Harry checked the Marauder’s Map and saw that the coast was clear. They left the Room of Requirement and headed back to Gryffindor Tower.

At six-thirty, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny met in the common room and headed down to the Great Hall. Hermione was peppering Harry with advice, having obviously spent the whole night worrying about him. Ginny said very little, but her puffy red eyes gave away the fact that she had been crying for a good portion of the night. Harry put his arm around her as they walked, and Ginny leaned into him as if this might be the last time she’d be able to touch him. "Remember what I told you," whispered Harry to her, loud enough so that Ron could overhear. Ginny nodded and smiled.

Professor Dumbledore had not expected Harry to arrive in the Great Hall with an entourage, but he seemed quite pleased by the sight of the four of them, walking side-by-side into the room. As they sat down to eat breakfast together, Dumbledore arose from his seat at the staff table and approached them, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth and a wide grin on his face. "Harry, it warms my heart to see that you inspire such loyalty from your friends that they are willing to wake at this hour of the morning to see you off."

"Yes, sir, I’m very lucky to have such wonderful friends."

Dumbledore said, "Do you have everything you need? We’ll be leaving in just a little while, as soon as Fawkes returns."

Harry nodded. "I’m all ready to go."

It seemed like no time at all before Fawkes appeared with a flash of light and disappeared almost immediately. Dumbledore summoned Harry, and he said hasty goodbyes. As he and Ron embraced, Ron whispered, "I love you, Harry. Call Isis if you need us."

Harry whispered back, "I love you too. Thanks, mate."

Ron watched through clouded vision as Harry and Dumbledore strode purposefully out the door. He had never felt as lonely as he did right now.


	9. SHADOWS AND LIGHT

The next two weeks passed in a blur. Concentrating was difficult, but Hermione kept Ron to a strict study schedule so that they would have time to review everything they needed to know for their NEWTs. With Quidditch training several times a week, spending time with Susan, and his prefect duties, Ron was nearly able to ignore his gnawing feeling of anxiety during the day. He would often lie awake until the wee hours of the night, however, wondering where Harry was and what he was doing. On more than one occasion he cried silent tears into his pillow. And he’d never admit it to the other boys in the dormitory, but he had taken one of Harry’s favorite jumpers and hidden it under his pillow so that he could remember the sweet, musky scent of Harry. The jumper offered precious little consolation to him in the middle of the long, dark night, though.

When they had some free moments together, Ron, Hermione and Ginny did their best to concoct Harry-sightings that they passed along to the other Gryffindors, to the Hufflepuffs through Susan and to the Ravenclaws through Anthony. The Slytherins were suspicious, but they didn’t want to appear too interested in Potter, and mostly saved their snide comments for times when Ron and Hermione would be sure to hear them.

Hermione was furious that she had not gotten permission from McGonagall and Snape to make the Polyjuice Potion, which gave them the distinct impression that whatever Harry was going to do would happen soon. However, as days dragged on, and Hermione read about more Death Eater attacks in the _Daily Prophet_ , the stress of waiting was taking its toll on her as well. Several times Ron had to remind her that it was not Anthony’s fault that Harry was gone, and that she might want to go a little easier on him.

Ginny also seemed to be having a hard time, which was mostly due to the fact that she had no role in the big plan except to be the left-behind girlfriend. Although she was normally very social, with lots of friends in the other houses, she was now keeping to herself, spending time with Ron and Hermione and the Quidditch team. 

Ron had asked Ginny several times what Harry had told her the night before he left, and she refused to say. It was sweet, actually, that Harry had made a special point to tell her how much he valued their friendship, and how glad he was that they’d gotten closer this year. Ginny knew that she came second to Ron in Harry’s heart, and she was disappointed about it, but he had gone out of his way to make her feel special – like she really mattered to him – and that had been more than she hoped for. It was no big deal, though. She just didn’t feel she needed to share their private conversation with her brother, especially when not doing so annoyed him.

* * * * *

One blustery evening, the Gryffindor Quidditch team was making a valiant attempt to practice, but there was very little value in training with the wind was blowing so hard. It was nearly impossible for anyone to fly straight, and the Chasers were no longer able to complete any passes. Much to the relief of the other players, Ron finally cancelled practice for the day and the Gryffindor team headed back to the castle.

"I hope it’s not this windy when we play Ravenclaw," moaned Ginny, who was clutching her robes tightly around her.

"Even if it is, we’ll still win. We’re so much better than they are," shouted Ron above the roar of the wind. He wrestled open the heavy wooden door and held it for his teammates. He followed them inside and the wind slammed the door shut behind him. They bantered jovially all the way up to Gryffindor Tower, enjoying their last few minutes of relaxation before they returned to the grind of their studies. 

Natalie and Ginny were first through the portrait hole, and had gone halfway across the common room when a loud thud caused them to quickly turn around. Ron was lying face down, right inside the doorway.

"Having a little trouble walking, Ron?" teased Ginny. When he did not look back at her, she ran over to him, worried that he might actually be hurt. "Are you okay?"

"Isis," Ron whispered. "Find...Hermione."

Ginny looked around. There were only few students in the common room besides the Quidditch team, all of whom were looking at her as if awaiting instructions. "Could you please move him?" she asked, turning to Sloper and Kirke. They nodded and managed to heave Ron onto the nearest couch without dropping him. 

Meanwhile, Ginny ran up to the dormitory to see if Hermione was there. Fortunately, Hermione was packing her book bag to go to the library. The two girls hurtled back down the stairs and rushed to where Ron was lying, his eyes closed and his lips moving ever so slightly, as if murmuring to someone that no one else could see. As Hermione knelt down next to the couch, Ginny said to the others gathered there, "He’ll be fine. You don’t have to hang around. Last time this happened it was all over in a couple of minutes."

"He looks like he’s in a trance," said Sloper. "Is it some kind of Dark magic?"

Ginny was startled at how close to the truth his comment was. But she shook her head and lied, "No, he’s always done this, ever since he was little. We’re not sure what it is, but it comes and goes." Her nonchalance about the whole episode assuaged their concerns for their friend, so the rest of the Quidditch team disappeared up to their dormitories to change clothes.

"Ron, can you see where he is?" whispered Hermione after they’d gone. "Can you tell what the trouble is – like you could last time?"

Ron’s breathing quickened and he said, "It’s dark.... Lots ... of people ... surrounding ... him." They saw Ron’s lips move as he mouthed, "Don’t be scared. I’ll protect you."

Ron was comfortable enough, but he did not feel as strong a connection with Harry as he did the last time. He supposed that was because Harry was far away, or perhaps Harry was concentrating on all those people surrounding him. The last time, Harry had sent a thought telling Ron what was wrong, but now, there was no such message. All Ron could see in his mind’s eye were shadows of people against a light background. Ron opened his eyes and saw Ginny and Hermione staring at him expectantly. "I think ... he’s ... in danger ... but ... not ... being ... attacked."

Ginny looked relieved, but Hermione was still concerned. She said to Ginny, "We can’t very well leave Ron here in the common room. We don’t know how long he’s going to be like this. And what if he shouts out Harry’s name or something? I think we should take him to the hospital wing."

"Can’t ... walk," protested Ron.

"I’ll move you, just like we practiced in class." Hermione stood up, removing her wand from the inside pocket of her robe. "Ginny, you get the door. _Mobilicorpus_." Ron was lifted off the couch and moved to an upright position. Hermione pulled him forward with her wand, as if there were invisible strings between Ron and the end of it. Ron was hovering upright, several inches off the floor. If anyone passed them, they would look like a strange spectacle indeed. Ginny was in the lead, Ron was hovering, seeming nearly as tall as Hagrid, and Hermione followed behind with her wand arm outstretched and a determined look on her face. 

Madam Pomfrey dashed out of her office as they entered the dormitory area of the hospital wing. "Good heavens," she gasped. "It’s happening, then. Professor Dumbledore told me to watch out for you, Mr. Weasley. Bring him along here, to the back. We’ll give him some privacy."

Hermione moved Ron to the farthest bed in the dormitory and gently deposited him there. Madam Pomfrey fussed about, trying to make him comfortable. She drew the curtain around the bed so that no one would be able to see him. Ginny and Hermione pulled chairs close to the bed and waited with anticipation.

Now that he was relaxed again, Ron tried once more to focus on Harry. If he listened very hard, he was sure he could hear an echo of Harry’s voice, but the words were jumbled and he could not understand them. The shadows around him were moving too, but Harry did not seem to notice them. The cadence of Harry’s jumbled words hinted that he was speaking with controlled anger – deep, low and forceful – a voice that demanded attention from anyone who heard it. Ron focused with all his might, but still he could not hear the words.

"How ... long ... has ... it ... been?" asked Ron.

Ginny looked at her watch. "About twenty minutes." She reached over and patted her brother’s hand. She felt so helpless, knowing that Harry was in danger and completely unable to do anything to help him. She wondered where Dumbledore was, and whether Harry being surrounded by a lot of people was part of this great plan. She watched Ron resting with his eyes closed, a deceptive look of serenity spread across his face.

Suddenly, Ron’s fists clenched and Ginny and Hermione watched him grimace. His lips started moving, and they assumed he was sending words of encouragement to Harry. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and he was getting agitated. Ginny wiped his face with a cloth that Madam Pomfrey had left behind, but it appeared to irritate him, so she stopped.

The connection with Harry had strengthened with no warning to Ron. Suddenly he heard Harry’s voice in his head telling Ron that he loved him and that he thought about their last night together every day. _"Isis is protecting me,"_ said Harry’s thoughts. _"Voldemort tried Avada Kedavra and I lived again. He’s livid, and it’s all thanks to you. Ron, I owe you my life. I love you so very much."_ Ron focused his thoughts and in his mind he told Harry that he loved him, and that he would protect Harry, no matter what happened.

"It’s working," he said to Ginny and Hermione in a barely audible whisper. "He … lived … again." Ginny squealed, and Hermione clapped her hands. Both girls were literally on the edge of their seats, as if they were watching a particularly exciting Quidditch match rather than a boy lying in his bed. 

Ron focused on Harry and his love for Harry. Oh, Isis, get him through this! Then it came, another message from Harry. _"Dumbledore is here, right on cue. Get ready, Ron. Here we go!"_ It was nearly impossible for Ron to focus any harder, but he tried with all his might. He was getting tired, but his best friend and lover was about to vanquish the most evil wizard of the age, and just the thought of it gave Ron renewed strength.

Ron spoke aloud, "He’s … about … to do it." Ginny held Ron’s hand, as if somehow her magic could pass through to Harry as well.

Ron could see a picture in his mind again – still very vague, but enough to know that battle lines were being drawn. Some time passed - Ron didn’t know how long. He saw what he thought to be Harry’s hands holding a glimmering white orb the size of a Bludger, with a translucent light shining from it, like one of the Muggle light bulbs he had seen in his father’s garage. The hands threw the orb and it landed at someone’s feet and shattered into a million pieces. The light from the orb was blinding, and Ron cried out. Impulsively, he covered his eyes with his hands, although it did nothing to stop the blinding light in his head. Ron felt a surge of energy rush through his body, and then he fainted.

Ginny screamed, and Madam Pomfrey came running over. She checked Ron’s breathing and pulse, and muttered something under her breath. Aloud she said, "What happened?"

Ginny was unsure how to respond, but Hermione answered, "Ron had a sort of connection with Harry. He told us that Harry was about to do something, and then he just sort of screamed and passed out." Madam Pomfrey looked worried, but she said nothing to them. Instead, she left quickly.

"What do you think that was?" asked Ginny.

Hermione looked sadly at Ron, and then at Ginny. "I don’t think we have any way of knowing until he wakes up." 

Madam Pomfrey was back a few moments later with what appeared to be ordinary smelling salts. She held them under Ron’s nose for a moment, and he woke up, coughing. 

"What happened?" asked Ginny and Hermione at the same time. 

Ron closed his eyes, inhaling the fresh air deeply. When he opened them again, he said hoarsely, "There was a flash of bright light and then our connection broke. I have no idea if Harry’s alive or not. I think maybe the light was a weapon, and Harry threw it and meant for it to explode."

"So we wait some more," said Hermione glumly. She and Ginny sat with Ron for a while, before returning to Gryffindor Tower. None of them dared to speak their worst fears, but they knew they were all thinking the same thing. There was nothing more they were going to learn tonight. Maybe there would be something in the _Daily Prophet_ in the morning.

* * * * *

Many hours later, in the middle of the night, Ron was awakened by six or seven people who showed up in the hospital wing unexpectedly. Madam Pomfrey had pulled back his curtains so he was only partially hidden from view. Ron tried to sit up to see what all the commotion was about, but thought better of that idea when the room started spinning. Instead, he lay back down and strained to overhear their conversation.

"What are his symptoms?" Ron heard Madam Pomfrey ask.

Dumbledore answered, "He hasn’t been conscious since it happened. I doubt it was the blast, though. It shouldn’t have caused him any harm. What I fear is damage through his scar when Voldemort was destroyed." Ron was shocked as he realized that it was Harry who had been brought in.

"He’s really gone, then, sir? For good this time?" asked Madam Pomfrey excitedly.

"It certainly appears so. There were about fifty witnesses, including myself, who saw him disintegrate. One can never be absolutely positive, of course, but I should need to see some strong evidence to convince me otherwise," said Dumbledore.

Ron could hear some shuffling, and a muttered "Sorry," from an unknown voice. It was quiet for a while, and then he heard Madam Pomfrey say, "He seems all right other than the loss of consciousness. I recommend letting him wake on his own, rather than forcing the issue through magical means. If he’s still comatose in a day or two, there are other things we can try."

There was a murmur of agreement from the ensemble, and Dumbledore said, "Yes, there’s little we can do tonight. Severus, would you be so kind as to show our guests to their accommodations while I have a word with Madam Pomfrey?"

Snape’s voice was easily recognizable now. "Of course, Headmaster. Then I’ll be in my quarters if any further assistance is needed. Come this way, please." Ron heard several sets of footsteps move toward the door and then fade away.

"Now, Poppy, how is our other patient?" said Dumbledore, coming into view of Ron’s bed. "Awake, I see. My apologies for waking you, Ron."

Ron sat up quickly, holding his head in his hands in an attempt to keep from passing out. "Professor Dumbledore, what’s wrong with Harry? Is he going to be all right?" Madam Pomfrey pushed him back onto his pillows, and he did not protest.

"We cannot assess his condition until he awakens. In the meantime, we need to be extremely proud of all that Harry, with the aid of his Protector, was able to accomplish, even if we do not yet know the price he paid. Voldemort has been destroyed, and at last count, twelve Death Eaters were taken into custody."

"Was Wormtail one of them?" asked Ron.

"I’m afraid Peter Pettigrew met a very unhappy fate. When Voldemort learned he had broken into Hogwarts without permission, he was tortured until he died – a very slow, painful death," said Dumbledore, shaking his head as if he were truly sorry about this.

"Harry will like that," said Ron, decisively.

Dumbledore stared at him, then smiled slightly as he looked over the top of his glasses. "I take it you did not sustain any lasting damage during the time you were channeling Isis?"

"I don’t think so. I’m just really weak, that’s all. Professor Dumbledore, while I was, er, channeling Isis, I saw something that looked like a white ball of light. Was it Harry who was holding it?" Ron looked up at Dumbledore anxiously.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. Interesting. You must have been able to see what was happening from Harry’s point of view."

"I guess so, but I couldn’t see very well. Only shadows and light. So, what was that ball of light, sir?"

Dumbledore smiled. "That orb was a weapon of my own invention, which the Department of Mysteries has been developing for nearly twenty years. The substance in the orb is always fatal to those who follow the Dark side, but it is harmless to the rest of us."

"What was it?" asked Ron in amazement.

"Love. Love proved to be Voldemort’s downfall and love is what saved Harry. Never underestimate its power, Ron. Love is the strongest magic we have." As Dumbledore turned to leave he said, "I am as proud of you and Harry as I could possibly be. It is an amazing feat that our side suffered so few losses, which would not have been possible had you and Harry not shown the courage you did. Wizards everywhere owe the two of you their gratitude. Please know that you have mine."

"Thanks, Professor. You must have had a very good plan. I think we owe you our gratitude too, sir."

"Thank you, Ron. It did work out rather well."

"Er, Professor Dumbledore, if it’s all the same to you, I’d just as soon not have my role in this made public – at least not yet. It could lead to some, er, embarrassing questions," said Ron, feeling grateful that his flushed face could not be seen in the dark.

"I understand. We’ll discuss what we shall tell the masses with Harry when he wakes up, shall we?" Dumbledore’s eyes caught the moonlight shining in the window, and Ron could see his amusement.

"Yeah, that sounds good. Goodnight, Professor."

After Dumbledore left, Ron tried with all his might to stay awake to worry about Harry. But it was a losing battle and he fell asleep within minutes.

* * * * *

The first thing Ron realized, when he woke the next morning, was that he was able to sit up in bed without wanting to retch. It was a great improvement. He couldn’t find his watch, but from the angle of the sun’s rays pouring through the window near his bed, he thought it must be close to mid-morning. Ron peered around the partially drawn curtain hiding his bed, and saw Madam Pomfrey cheerfully fussing with someone’s bedding. He’d forgotten – it was Harry!

Ron scrambled out of bed, nearly falling over due to the weakness of his knees. As he approached Harry’s bedside, he stopped dead in his tracks. Harry was lying on his back, his jet-black hair flying wildly across the freshly fluffed pillow. He wore no expression, and his usually sensuous lips were pressed gently together forming a straight line across his narrow face. The most startling thing, however, was his scar. Where it had once been faded to the point that it was hardly noticeable to the casual observer, it was now nearly black, and jutting out from the alabaster skin of his forehead. Ron examined it more closely and saw that it was as if the skin had been re-injured in exactly the same spot, and had scabbed over.

Madam Pomfrey caught Ron’s eye and saw the look of horror on his face. "He hasn’t woken yet, but I imagine he’ll have quite a headache when he does. Are you feeling better today, Mr. Weasley?"

"Huh? Er, yeah. Loads better, thanks. Madam Pomfrey, how long do you reckon he’ll be like this? He’s not, er, brain-dead or anything, is he?" Ron could barely bring himself to say the horrible things his mind was thinking. What if Isis had saved Harry’s body, but not his soul? He’d be no better off than if one of those dementors had gotten hold of him. What if Harry _never_ woke up?

"We’ve seen some movement during the night, so it appears he has some brain function. That’s a good sign. Really, if it weren’t for the change in his scar, I would guess that he was just very, very tired. Whatever happened last night seems to have drained all of the magical energy from both of you. The only way to get it back is with the passage of time." Madam Pomfrey walked over to where Ron had been sleeping and retrieved his wand from among his things. She handed it to him. "I’d like to see if you’ve gotten all your powers back. Please try a simple spell."

Ron pointed his wand at the empty water glass on the table next to Harry’s bed. " _Wingardium leviosa_ ," he said. The glass rose about six inches off the table before Ron was too weak to hold it there, and it went crashing to the floor. Ron moaned as the shards of glass skittered across the floor, but Madam Pomfrey walked over to the bed.

"Did you see that? When the glass dropped, he winced. And look at his eyes move!" Ron watched Harry’s eyeballs dart back and forth behind his closed lids. "He’s not in a coma, just a deep sleep. That’s a relief!" she said. She turned back to Ron and scolded him, "I can see you’re not quite as well as you let on. Back to bed with you. Now!"

"Can I move over here, next to Harry?" pleaded Ron, as she repaired the broken glass with a wave of her wand. 

Madam Pomfrey initially refused his request, but as she had no real reason to keep them apart, in the end, she capitulated. She conjured some breakfast for Ron to eat in his new bed, and moved his belongings while he ate. 

Ron was just finishing his last bit of toast when he heard a voice say, "Mmmm. That smells delicious."

"Harry!" exclaimed Ron, shoving his breakfast tray aside. In a flash, he was out of his bed and sitting on the edge of Harry’s. "I’m so glad you’re all right!" Ron grabbed Harry’s hand, but was taken aback by the strange look on his face.

Harry pulled his hand away and looked confused. "I’m sorry, but do I know you?"

Ron’s face fell. _What kind of a cruel joke was this?_ "Very funny, Harry. Of course you know me."

"Harry? Is that me?" Something in his expression told Ron that Harry was most definitely not joking. His eyes were darting nervously from Ron to the door and to the rest of the room.

"Yes," said Ron quietly. "You’re Harry Potter. I’m Ron Weasley. We’re best friends."

"Oh," said Harry, obviously disturbed by this news. Harry saw his glasses sitting on the nightstand and put them on. He and Ron shared an uncomfortable moment of silence until Madam Pomfrey came running over.

"You’re awake at last!" she said, bursting with energy. "Congratulations, Mr. Potter, on a job well done!"

"Sorry," said Harry, "but what did I do?"

Madam Pomfrey looked confused until Ron said, "He doesn’t seem to remember anything, not even his name."

"Oh dear, this isn’t good." She began to ask him a battery of questions designed to determine the extent of his memory loss. After half a minute, it became clear that he didn’t remember anything about Hogwarts and his last memories were of living with the Dursleys.

Ron interrupted. "Do you remember going to the zoo with your cousin Dudley?" Ron remembered the story of the trip to the zoo because it was apparently the first time Harry had ever spoken Parseltongue.

"Oh no," Harry said sadly. "They don’t let me go to fun places like the zoo. I always have to stay with Mrs. Figg, who likes cats."

Ron said quietly to Madam Pomfrey, "I think he was about ten when he went to the zoo. Mrs. Figg is a real person, and she does like cats, so that’s probably true."

Ron’s presence on Harry’s bed seemed to be upsetting Harry, so he got in his own bed again, but couldn’t keep from staring. What a nightmare! Harry was alive, but he had no memory of the last seven years!

Madam Pomfrey conjured Harry some breakfast and then went off to summon Professor Dumbledore. The two boys sat silently in their respective beds as one ate breakfast and the other pondered their unfortunate situation.

The initial shock of finding out about Harry’s memory loss had worn off, and Ron was left with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. The way Harry looked at him was devastating – there was no emotion behind his eyes. Harry didn’t seem particularly worried that he had no memory. He was just interested in breakfast! What happened to _his Harry_ – the one with the sultry smile and sparkle in his deep green eyes, who loved to laugh and wore his emotions so easily? Ron buried his head in his hands, hoping that he’d look up and discover it was all a bad dream.

Instead, the doors opened and Hermione and Susan entered the room. They greeted Ron, who watched as Hermione suddenly realized that Harry was in the next bed.

"Oh, thank goodness you’re okay! We were so worried," she gushed, as she ran over to his bed and put her arms around him. She, too, knew something was wrong when Harry didn’t return the embrace.

Harry looked at Ron. "I take it we’re friends too, then?"

"Best friends for seven years. The three of us have been inseparable. Her name is Hermione Granger." Ron watched Hermione’s jaw drop as she realized why Ron was telling him this.

"You mean, you don’t remember anything? Not even Ron and me?" she said in disbelief.

Harry shook his head. "I didn’t even know my own name until Ron told me." He looked at Susan, who had sat down on the end of Ron’s bed without saying a word. "Do I know you too?" he asked.

"I’m Susan Bones. I’m Ron’s girlfriend. Of course we know each other, but not that well." Susan felt awkward looking at him, so she turned her attention to Ron. She kissed him on the cheek and said, "I had no idea anything was wrong with you until Hermione told me in class this morning. Are you going to be all right?"

As Susan and Ron talked, Harry turned to Hermione, who was still perched on the edge of his bed. "I feel a little silly asking this... er ...Hermione, but do _I_ have a girlfriend?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "You’ve been going out with Ron’s sister Ginny for about four months. You’ll see her later. She said she was going to visit Ron at lunch time."

As he was talking to Susan, Ron heard Hermione say Harry was dating Ginny. _Merlin, what a disaster!_ As if it wasn’t bad enough for Harry to see Susan kiss him, Ron would never be able to explain to Harry that his relationship with Ginny was a total sham. Inside he wanted to scream – the thought of losing what he had with Harry was becoming too much for him. For a brief moment he wished that he, too, had lost his memory so that he wouldn’t have to feel the pain of this loss.

Ron looked toward the door as it opened again. Professor Dumbledore hurried over, a broad smile on his face, and his eyes twinkling merrily as ever over his half-moon glasses. He stopped in front of Harry’s bed and grinned. Harry looked at Dumbledore with anticipation, knowing now that he should recognize this kindly man who was greeting him with such fondness, but feeling strangely void of emotion.

"Harry, welcome back to Hogwarts! You have been away for about three weeks. I am Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster. I understand that you have sustained some memory loss. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?"

Harry said, "All right," but glanced uncomfortably at his audience. Hermione noticed this immediately and suggested loudly to Susan that they visit again after lunch. Susan gave Ron a hug and followed after Hermione reluctantly. Professor Dumbledore did not draw the curtains around Harry’s bed, but instead sat in a chair between his bed and Ron’s, effectively blocking Ron from Harry’s view. It was almost as if Dumbledore felt that Ron had a right to hear what was being said as much as Harry had a right to some privacy.

Dumbledore asked about Harry’s scar, and any other areas of his body that might be feeling pain. Ron was relieved to overhear that Harry was weak, but otherwise fine. Dumbledore asked Harry whether he remembered specific events, or feelings, or people. All of the questions were answered the same way – Harry had no recollection of anything. Ron heard Dumbledore ask if Harry remembered seeing lights: green, blinding white, anything. Ron could almost overhear Harry’s brain trying to crystallize a vague thought. 

"For some reason, when I think of green light, I remember my parents. But they died, didn’t they? In a car crash, I think." Harry blinked hard, obviously trying to make some pieces fit together that didn’t quite work.

"Yes, Harry, they are dead. But they did not die in a car crash. They were murdered many years ago by a Dark wizard named Voldemort." Dumbledore saw what he thought was a faint glimmer of recognition at the mention of Voldemort’s name, so he paused. When he saw no further reaction, he said, "You did not know this, of course, until after you were accepted to Hogwarts, but the curse that killed your parents issues a distinctive green light."

"A Dark wizard? There are no such things as wizards. My Uncle Vernon says all the time that believing in things like wizards and sorcery is for the weak-minded who refuse to live in the real world," said Harry.

Ron was glad that Harry couldn’t see him, as it was taking every ounce of energy for him to stifle his laughter. Dumbledore had forgotten to mention that the name of the school was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and that all the students were witches and wizards, including Harry himself. Ron lay quietly, anxious to hear how Dumbledore was going to handle this.

"Yes, there are some people who refuse to believe it, but the fact is, that we do exist. We are all wizards and witches here at Hogwarts. You don’t remember this, but you happen to be one of the most powerful young wizards in this school."

Harry stared at Dumbledore, not believing him, yet desperately wanting to. He opened his mouth to speak, but was suddenly at a loss for words. This elderly gentleman had no reason to lie to him, and there was something about him that made Harry feel he could trust him.

"Harry," said Dumbledore softly, "I know this is difficult for you to believe, but you have just been through a terrible trauma which has damaged your brain’s ability to retrieve your memories. I would like your permission to search your mind to see if the thoughts are still there, as I suspect, or if your memory has been wiped completely clean."

"What do you mean ‘search my mind’? Are you saying that you can read my thoughts just by looking at me?" asked Harry, skeptically.

"It is a magic called Legilimency. It is not a common ability, but I have some skill in the area, and using it will allow me to determine whether it is even possible for you to regain your lost memory. It will not be painful, although it is possible that some of your memories might be. If you would like me to stop at any time, you may say so." Dumbledore gazed kindly at Harry.

"All right, then. If you think it will help," said Harry apprehensively.

Ron couldn’t see anything from his bed, but he lay there quietly listening as Dumbledore uttered, _"Legilimens."_ Ron heard nothing else, although he discovered he was anxiously holding his breath while straining to keep quiet.

Harry was amazed that, as he stared into this old man’s eyes, he was able to see snippets of his memories that became suddenly familiar as he watched. He was sitting next to Hermione in a dreary dungeon as a professor was sneering at him with a malevolent glare…. He was running full speed down the hill from the castle to the lake, the whole school watching him. The stitch in his side was excruciating as a middle-aged wizard in horrid black and yellow robes blew a whistle, and he removed his shoes and socks and started chewing on some dried weeds.... He was cowering in his cupboard under the stairs at Privet Drive as Uncle Vernon pounded on the door.... He was kissing a pretty red-haired girl in the middle of a library, feeling surprised and pleased, and when they broke off the kiss he said, ‘I’ll get it for you – I can reach....’ Soaring through the air at top speed, he was flying toward something gold, urging his broom all the way. He could see out of the corner of his eye that someone else was approaching. He reached out his hand and grabbed a flying golden ball out of the air, and the crowd in the stands below erupted cheering madly.… He and Ron were entering a cozy room with a fireplace and a four-poster bed with royal purple curtains. _No – I’m not sure why, but you can’t see this_! He was surrounded by fifteen dark, hooded figures while a gaunt, pale man turned to face him and a horrific snake-like nose and red eyes were staring him down. He felt energy and love and heard a voice saying, ‘I love you, Harry, and I’ll protect you.’ The snake-man pointed a wand at him and hissed, _‘Avada Kedavra’_ and a green light flashed at him…

Harry shouted, "NO!" His breathing was labored and his heart was racing. He knew what that green light meant. Dumbledore ended the spell immediately and Madam Pomfrey came running from her office. Dumbledore eyed him with concern and uttered some calming words as Harry caught his breath and began to settle down.

"Were you able to see your memories?" asked Dumbledore finally. "I counted seven, including the one you kept me from seeing."

Harry thought about what he had remembered. Yes, there were seven scenes he could make out quite distinctly. He nodded.

Dumbledore turned to Madam Pomfrey. "Poppy, would you be so kind as to contact Healer Wilkes at St. Mungo’s and ask him if he would be willing to see a patient here at Hogwarts in strict confidence?"

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore. I’ll ask him at once," she answered, and returned quickly to her office.

"Harry," said Dumbledore, "I believe your memory is still intact, but that you have lost the ability to recall things at will. Those last four memories you saw all happened during this school year, and the last one occurred yesterday, just moments before the blast that killed Voldemort. We have asked a memory charm specialist to assess you and determine what course of treatment is advised to get you back to normal as soon as possible."

Harry was finding this whole episode a little overwhelming. How was this man able to see his memories? And why did he seem to know so much about him? "Sir," Harry asked, "What happened to cause my memory loss? Was it this blast you spoke of?"

Dumbledore paused, considering how best to answer this question. It seemed fair to tell Harry of his accomplishments, yet he didn’t want to plant any false memories either. "You have been the focal point of a great battle to rid our world – the wizarding world – of a powerful evil force that threatened our way of life. The blast occurred when you used a magical weapon to defeat him. I believe your memory loss occurred when the connection you and he shared was broken by his death."

"We were connected? How?"

Dumbledore pointed at Harry’s forehead. "The scar was given to you by Voldemort when you were a small child, and it created a connection whereby you and he could read each others thoughts and emotions." Harry touched his scar, and it was very tender.

"Voldemort!" Harry said suddenly. "He was that snake-like man in that memory, wasn’t he?" Dumbledore nodded. "And I…killed him?" asked Harry.

"You dealt the final blow as part of a plan that was carried out by a hundred people over the course of twenty years. Your friend Ron was involved as well, and is probably the sole reason you survived that final memory you saw. Only a handful of people know that it was his job to protect you." Dumbledore smiled as Harry looked over at Ron, who was trying not to appear too interested in their conversation. Of course, he was hanging on every word.

"Thanks," said Harry to Ron. Ron smiled and nodded. He was grateful to Professor Dumbledore for explaining his role as Protector to Harry. Even if Harry didn’t remember that they were lovers, he would at least know that Ron cared about him enough to save his life.

Madam Pomfrey appeared from her office again. "I’ve just reached Healer Wilkes by floo. He can be here at eight o’clock this evening." She turned to Harry. "Do you need anything, dear?" Harry shook his head. "And you, Mr. Weasley?"

"Just the loo," Ron said. Madam Pomfrey helped him out of bed and Harry watched as they tottered down the hall.

When he was out of earshot, Harry asked, "Professor, why is Ron here? Was he injured in the blast?"

Dumbledore said, "No, he was here at the time of the blast. He is here because the force required to protect you from Voldemort drained him of his energy. He will make a full recovery."

"But you said his job was to protect me. Why wasn’t he with me?"

Dumbledore sighed, once again wondering how much to say. He glimpsed the Tyet of Isis charm. "He was able to channel protective magic through the charm which is hanging around your neck. It was empowered to create a special bond between you and Ron." Dumbledore stood up to leave. "Now, Harry, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few matters to attend to. Try not to worry too much about your memory – we shall do everything in our power to put things right."

Harry watched as Dumbledore shook hands with Ron who was making his way back to bed. It was awfully tiring to end up in the hospital without a clue about anything while everyone around you knows your life’s history. Harry put his glasses on the nightstand and rubbed his eyes. He fell asleep within minutes, never knowing that Ron was anxiously waiting to talk to him.

 


	10. DAMAGE ASSESSMENT

Ron was resting peacefully until Ginny burst through the door to the hospital wing. He watched her glance at the sleeping Harry as she sat down on the end of Ron’s bed.

"Are you feeling better today?" whispered Ginny. Ron nodded. "Good. Hermione sent this for you to read." She handed him a thick, dog-eared copy of the _Daily Prophet_. "It looks like Harry really did it! And there is an article about some wizard who witnessed Harry surviving _Avada Kedavra_. They are speculating on how he could have survived it twice, but they never come close to the truth." Ginny nodded toward Harry. "Hermione told me about his memory loss. Do they know if he’ll ever get it back?"

"They don’t know yet," answered Ron quietly, "but Dumbledore searched his mind and was able to find memories from right before I lost the connection with him. He thinks the thoughts are all still in his brain but he just can’t access them at will. It’s creepy, though. He looks at me as if I’m a total stranger."

Ginny patted his arm, knowing her brother well enough to see that he was hurting from the sudden loss of Harry’s affection. "I’m sorry, Ron. It must be really hard for you."

"It is," whispered Ron. "Meanwhile, Susan told him she’s my girlfriend and Hermione told him you’re _his_ girlfriend, so he has no reason to believe that he and I are anything other than mates. Unless he gets his memory back, we’re never going to be able to explain it all to him. I mean, sometimes I hardly believe it myself!"

"It’ll work out, Ron. It just has to." Ginny smiled, hoping to comfort him. "So, is he going to be able to play Quidditch on Saturday?"

Ron chuckled. "Not unless Healer Wilkes from St. Mungo’s can pull off a miracle recovery. Harry didn’t even know that he was a wizard! Ginny, I’m telling you, it’s weird!" 

Ron suggested they cancel Quidditch practice for today and schedule a make-up practice for Thursday. As they were talking, Ron could feel Harry’s eyes on him and glanced over to the next bed to find Harry sitting up.

A wide grin crossed Ginny’s face as she noticed he had woken. "Hi, Harry. I’m Ginny Weasley. I’m so glad you’re back safe and sound." She approached his bed to hug him, and Ron noticed with some distress that Harry hugged her back.

Ginny diplomatically sat on the chair between their two beds where she could mediate the conversation. On the one hand, she would have loved a private conversation with Harry to tell him everything she thought he ought to know about her, but on the other hand, Ron was her brother and she loved him too, and didn’t want to say anything that would hurt him. If Ron thought she was somehow swooping in to steal Harry from him – well, she didn’t want to think about how angry he’d be.

"So, Ginny, you heard about my memory loss then," Harry said.

"Yeah, Hermione told me at lunch. Don’t worry, though. We’re trying to keep it quiet. I think Susan, Hermione and I are the only students besides you and Ron who even know you’re here. Of course, everyone is reading about how you destroyed You-Know…er, Lord Voldemort. It’s all over the _Daily Prophet_."

"The _Daily Prophet_?" puzzled Harry. Ron held up the front of the newspaper that Ginny had brought so that Harry could see it. "Oh, I guess that makes sense," he continued, "that you – I mean we – would have our own newspaper."

"I really hope you’re able to remember the battle some day," said Ginny. "You were so brave, and well, only a couple of us know how Ron kept you from being killed. But we weren’t positive he’d be able to protect you…"

" _I_ was positive," said Ron, defiantly. "I knew Isis would come through and that Harry would be okay."

Harry fumbled for the charm around his neck. Holding it out toward Ron, he said, "That headmaster…"

"Dumbledore."

"Yes, Dumbledore, he said that you empowered this charm to protect me." Ron nodded. "But…why?"

"Why?" replied Ron. "Because I was the only one who could. You needed to be alive to kill Voldemort, and I had the ability to do it. Besides, Harry, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had."

Harry pondered this answer for a moment, and then seemed satisfied. Someday he would learn the details of that adventure, but he felt that Ron was holding something back. He would have to ask him later, when they were alone.

Harry turned to Ginny. "Dumbledore did something to help me see some of my memories. One of them was of flying in the air on a broomstick, and I was catching a flying golden ball. Do you have any idea what that was?"

Ginny smiled broadly. "Oh, I’m sure it was Quidditch. That’s our sport, you know? You’re the captain of the Gryffindor team – well, Ron’s been acting as captain since you’ve been away." She paused, seeing Harry’s confused expression.

"Gryffindor?" Harry asked.

"That’s your House," answered Ginny. "There are four Houses at Hogwarts and each student is sorted into a House on the first day here. They’re like your family – you eat and sleep and take classes together. We’re all in Gryffindor. There is also Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Hufflepuff."

Harry burst out laughing. "Hufflepuff? It sounds like the name of a kid’s cereal!"

Ron and Ginny laughed as well. Ron said, "Yeah, it does, but don’t say that in front of Susan. She’s in Hufflepuff and they’re very sensitive about how the other Houses view them."

"So I play this Quidditch game. Tell me how to play. If I’m captain, does that mean I’m good at it?" 

Ron and Ginny described the game of Quidditch to Harry, who thought it sounded very exciting. He was hoping they’d let him out of this hospital wing to see Gryffindor – his team apparently – play Ravenclaw on Saturday. He was thrilled to think that he owned his own broomstick. This being a wizard was brilliant. He just wished he could remember how to do magic.

Ginny looked at her watch and realized she was going to be late for her next class. She leaned down to give hugs to Ron and Harry. As she embraced Harry, he whispered to her, "Come back and visit me again, okay? There are a lot of questions I want to ask you." Ginny nodded and waved goodbye as she hurried out the door.

Harry was feeling more comfortable with Ron now. Since seeing some of his memories that morning, Harry had determined that these people were friends and that they cared about him, so he needn’t question their motives. He was still stunned about Ron’s revelation that he had protected Harry from Voldemort. Why would anyone do something like that for Harry Potter? As far as he could remember, he was just an awkward boy that nobody dared to befriend. Could his life really have changed that much since he started school here?

Ron read aloud parts of the _Daily Prophet_ that he thought Harry would find interesting. He did not think it was wise to show Harry everything – at least not at first. As Ron finished reading an article called "The Boy Who Lived Again," Harry frowned and said, "They write about me like I’m this famous hero or something. Where do they get off thinking they know me well enough to write this drabble?"

Ron couldn’t bear to look at him as he said, "You’ve been famous since you were a baby. You’re written about in all of our history books and every little witch and wizard knows who you are. I’m sure the press is having a field day with all the new material you’ve given them."

"I’m famous? Why? For living? That’s really irritating, isn’t it? I bet I didn’t like that much." 

Ron laughed. "No, you don’t like it at all. All the attention makes you quite cross, and sometimes you’ve been known to take it out on your friends." Ron paused as Harry looked at him sheepishly. "Oh, and Harry, you have your own groupies!"

"My own what?" asked Harry with disbelief.

"Groupies. You know – eleven and twelve-year-old girls who follow you around hoping you’ll snog them up in the Astronomy Tower." Ron was grinning. He knew he shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he was, but the disgusted look on Harry’s face was priceless.

Madam Pomfrey arrived with a Rejuvenating potion for each of them, which tasted mildly of peppermint. When Ron finished his, she asked him to try another spell to see if his magic was improving at all.

Ron pointed his wand at the bed across the room and said, _"Accio pillow."_ The pillow from the bed flew through the air to him and he caught it with a loud thump. Harry, who couldn’t recall seeing magic before, clapped his hands in amazement. Ron shot red sparks out of his wand, and then conjured some flowers, mostly to impress Harry, but also to show Madam Pomfrey that he was feeling much better.

"Do I have a magic wand too?" asked Harry. Ron stifled a laugh at Harry’s reference to a "magic" wand.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. It’s in the drawer of that table," said Madam Pomfrey. "But I think it might be too early for you to try it…"

Harry wasn’t listening to her protests. He’d grabbed the wand out if the drawer and was examining it closely. He liked the way it felt in his hands – not like the cheap toy that he had once seen on Dudley’s television, but like an essential part of his being. He gave it a short flick and a jet of air flew out of the tip. The force of it sent him falling back against his pillows.

"Whoa! Sorry, I was not expecting that," Harry said nervously.

Madam Pomfrey took the wand from his hand and placed it back in the drawer. "I think you need to have a bit more strength before you use your wand again. Magic can cause irreparable harm if not carefully controlled, and I believe you might have forgotten how to control yours. It will come back to you soon enough, or else we’ll give you some remedial training." Harry didn’t like the fact that he might need "remedial training," but causing "irreparable harm" sounded equally distasteful.

Madam Pomfrey turned back to Ron. "Mr. Weasley, you are free to go whenever you feel up to it. If you are still feeling weak tomorrow, please stop by for an additional Rejuvenating potion."

Ron watched Madam Pomfrey walk away and then turned to Harry. He didn’t want to leave Harry’s side. He felt like there was still so much to tell him – so many things they needed to discuss. He looked forlornly at Harry and then started to change back into his own clothes.

"Ron," said Harry, "before you leave, can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Well, I was wondering… I don’t have any recollection of how you and I got on before, but it has seemed to me all day that there’s something you’re not telling me. Were we fighting or something before that blast? Tell me, please. I need to know." 

Harry’s intense gaze was focused on Ron’s blue eyes. Well, there was no point in lying – it wouldn’t do to make Harry distrust him, and lying wasn’t exactly Ron’s strong suit. "No, Harry, we weren’t fighting. I guess I’m having a hard time adjusting to having temporarily lost the Harry I knew yesterday."

Harry’s eyes bored into Ron’s. "So we were fairly close, then?"

"We were about as close as it’s possible to be." Ron turned away and continued to dress, not wanting Harry to see his face and guess the truth. It would be better for both of them for Harry to remember on his own. And if he never did – well, Ron would be spared the embarrassment of describing their torrid love affair to one who obviously no longer had feelings for him.

"Ron?" asked Harry quietly. Ron faced him again. "I heard enough today to know that you did an extraordinary thing by keeping me alive. I just want to say…thanks." He smiled at Ron, and it was that special smile that made Ron fall in love with Harry again every time he saw it. _Merlin, was there no mercy from this agony?_

Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder and replied, "I’d do it again in an instant. I just hope you get your memory back so we can be like we were before."

As Ron gathered his things to return to the dormitory, Harry made him promise to visit again the next day. Ron had no intention of denying Harry anything ever again.

* * * * *

Ginny paused outside the double doors to the hospital wing to check the time. It was after nine o’clock and she thought she would look in on Harry before going her prefect rounds. As she opened a door, she heard several voices coming through the closed door to Madam Pomfrey’s office. Without stopping to consider the ethical implications of what she was doing, she pulled one of Fred and George’s Extendable Ears from the pocket of her robe and watched its string-like end disappear under the office door.

"You’re sure, then, that he’ll make a full recovery?" asked Dumbledore. "I do not want to give him false hope."

Ginny heard a voice respond that she did not recognize. "Yes, of course. But it will take a long time. The scar runs very deep, and we will need to clear out the scar tissue bit by bit and realign his synapses. Very nasty business – almost as bad as regrowing bones."

"He already regrew all the bones in his arm a few years back. He’ll be fine if it’s no worse than that," said Madam Pomfrey.

The man’s voice continued. "We will need to repair a little bit every day, so it’s imperative that he be at St. Mungo’s. As capable as my assistants are, I don’t trust any of them with this delicate task and I’ll be treating him myself. How soon can we move him?"

Dumbledore coughed. "He seemed quite adamant about seeing the Quidditch match on Saturday. Perhaps we should move him Sunday evening. There will be fewer people to notice his arrival, and we can sneak him onto the closed ward without alerting the press."

There was a pause, and Ginny worried that perhaps Dumbledore had noticed the end of the Extendable Ear under the door. She was relieved when he continued.

"And the duration of his treatments? Will he have any chance of sitting for his NEWTs?"

"I’m afraid not. If we encounter no difficulties, I’d guess he could be out of St. Mungo’s by early August. Perhaps not until September if there are unforeseen issues."

Ginny’s heart sank. Three months at St. Mungo’s sounded like an eternity, and he wouldn’t be able to finish school with his classmates. The timing of this injury was going to put him back a whole school year…back with her year. Hmmm. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

Ginny felt she had heard enough and was concerned about being caught, so she jammed the Extendable Ear back into her pocket and approached Harry’s bed. He appeared to be dozing, but his eyes opened as he heard her footsteps. He seemed quite pleased to see her as he greeted her with a wide grin across his face.

"You came back!" Harry said cheerfully.

"Well, you did ask me too, and I was worried you might be lonely in here by yourself. Ron got back to Gryffindor Tower, and Hermione made him immediately return to his study schedule. NEWTs are coming up, and being in here for a whole day really set him behind." Ginny sat on the edge of the bed where he’d motioned for her to sit. Was it her imagination, or was he looking at her differently?

"NEWTs?" Harry asked.

"Stands for Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. The scores you get determine what kinds of jobs you’re likely to get after graduating. You were trying to be an Auror."

"A what?" Harry now looked thoroughly perplexed.

"Auror. Magical law enforcement. They’re the ones that track down Dark wizards." Ginny stopped talking. Every time she opened her mouth it seemed like she had to explain things to Harry as if he were a Muggle. Better to let him talk for a change. "You said earlier that you wanted to ask me about some things."

Harry’s face looked blank and then he remembered. "Oh yeah. I wanted to ask you about another one of those memories that Professor Dumbledore helped me see. You were in it."

"Oh, okay," said Ginny. "Just describe what you saw and I’ll try to remember."

Harry flashed a wicked smile and it made her a little nervous. "We were in a library and you were, er, kissing me, and we were having quite a lot of fun." He paused. "Did you and I kiss a lot?" he asked, looking up into her eyes.

_Shit, what am I going to tell him?_ thought Ginny. "Well, that kiss… it was our first one. You weren’t really expecting me to kiss you."

"No? It seemed pretty friendly for a first kiss. But I remembered enjoying it a lot." Ginny was embarrassed, and looking down at her knees. Harry reached up and touched her cheek. "I was a little worried when Hermione told me I had a girlfriend, but then I saw you and decided I must have some redeeming qualities if a girl as pretty as you would date me."

Ginny’s ears turned crimson, as she turned towards him. "Harry, most of the girls in this school are dying to date you! You’re easily the cutest boy in your year – everybody thinks so – and you’re smart and brave and an excellent athlete. People think _I’m_ the lucky one to be dating _you_." Ginny couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. If he hadn’t been so clear about not being in love with her… But that was before.

"Ginny, I have to know something. Did I treat you well, or have I been a prat? I’d hate to think I’ve acted like a conceited bastard." Harry searched her eyes for the truth.

Ginny smiled. "You’ve been wonderful. The night before you left to find Lord Voldemort, I was pretty upset, and you said some of the sweetest things anyone has ever told me. Harry, I don’t think you could be conceited if you tried."

Harry pulled her closer. "If it’s okay with you, Ginny, I’d really like to kiss you. Maybe it will bring back some memories from before the blast." Harry noticed her hesitation. "We _have_ kissed during the four months we’ve dated, haven’t we?"

Ginny had no idea what to say. She had never been in such a dilemma – whether to lie and say that they’d been close, or to tell the truth about their fictitious relationship. In the end, she sidestepped the issue totally by being vague. "Yes, of course we’ve kissed. But Harry, our situation was complicated. You were about to go off to fight Voldemort, and Ron was trying to protect you and I was trying to help you both…" Ginny’s voice trailed off as she looked into Harry’s shining green eyes and saw them glistening at her. He’d never looked at her like that before – it was the way he used to look at Ron. She couldn’t resist the temptation any longer. Her lips met his, and it was like fireworks exploding in the pit of her stomach. He’d never before kissed her with that kind of passion. Wow – it was exhilarating!

"It doesn’t seem very complicated now," whispered Harry. Harry had no idea that he was in the process of adding another layer of complexity to their situation.

They kissed a while before Ginny remembered her prefect rounds. The smile Harry wore as she turned to go was tugging at her heartstrings. This Harry didn’t realize he was in love with someone else, and Ginny wasn’t about to be the one to tell him. She was playing with fire, she knew, and somebody was going to get burned. At this point, it was looking like that person might be Ron.

Ginny’s conscience got the best of her, though, as she wandered through the school. Harry wasn’t himself right now, and it would be wrong to mislead him. He had always been totally honest with her, and she owed him the same courtesy. Besides, Healer Wilkes had said Harry would make a full recovery, so eventually, he would remember that he and Ron were… 

She cringed. After nearly five months of knowing their secret, it still bothered her to think that her brother and the boy of her dreams were lovers. But then, as she remembered the kisses she’d shared with Harry earlier, she could hardly blame Ron for not wanting to give that up. Merlin, twenty minutes later her stomach still felt queasy just thinking about the way he’d made her feel. 

And, as infuriating as he was at times, Ginny loved Ron and didn’t want him to be hurt. No, she resolved, the best thing she could do right now is to be open and honest with Ron and tell him what had happened with Harry. Well, maybe not all of what happened. Then they’d have to wait for Harry to get his memory back and decide what he wanted.

Ginny sat down on the bench next to the statue of Gregory the Smarmy on the fifth floor of the East Wing. Through the window she could see the crescent moon shining brightly in the clear spring sky. Seeing it made her think of Isis – among all her other aspects, Isis was also the Goddess of the Moon. Isis, who had been so generous with her spirit to protect her beloved Harry, would certainly answer another prayer, wouldn’t she? Ginny whispered a prayer of thanks to Isis and asked that she intervene to cause true love to prevail. Deep in her heart, Ginny believed it would.


	11. BITTER ENDINGS / NEW BEGINNINGS

Ron looked up from the table as Ginny’s head poked through the portrait hole to the common room. She flopped down in a squashy armchair near him and closed her eyes. She hadn’t counted on Ron being awake, and she figured she’d better talk sooner than later.

"Rounds go all right?" asked Ron.

"Yeah. Er… I saw Harry," said Ginny tentatively.

Ron set his quill on the table. "Is he okay? Did he see that healer?"

Ginny nodded. "Harry didn’t tell me what he said, but I overheard the healer tell Dumbledore that Harry would have to spend at least three months at St. Mungo’s."

"Three months! Merlin, that’s forever! But he’ll recover his memory?"

"Yeah," replied Ginny. "The healer seemed pretty confident. But he won’t be able to sit for his NEWTs."

"Dammit! It just doesn’t seem fair. I can’t believe it. He saves the world from Voldemort and he gets three months at St. Mungo’s for his trouble!" Ron moaned grumpily. He caught a strange expression on Ginny’s face, and knew immediately that she was holding something back. "What else?"

She ran her hands through her thick, wavy hair and focused her gaze on the fire glowing dimly across the room. "What do you mean ‘What else’?" she said guiltily. 

"I know there’s something else you’re not telling me. Is it bad news about Harry?" asked Ron anxiously.

Ginny blushed as their eyes met and then quickly looked away again. "He kissed me."

"Oh, well, that’s because he thinks you’re really his girlfriend and he’s supposed to. It’s all right." Ron patted her gently on the arm.

"No, Ron, you don’t understand." Ginny glanced around the room and saw that it was nearly deserted. She hissed quietly, "He kissed me like he used to kiss you!" 

The color drained out of Ron’s face. He could barely take in her next words. "He asked if he could kiss me and he had this – I don’t know – lusty look in his eyes. And the next thing I knew… Well, I’m sorry. I…I didn’t think it would be any different than before."

The despair Ron had been feeling all day erupted within him and with one swift move, he flung all his books and parchment off the table so that they scattered across the room. "No!" he shouted. "This cannot be happening!" He lowered his face to his hands, not wanting Ginny to see the tears welling up in his eyes.

Ginny levitated Ron’s things back onto the table, not daring to speak to him. Finally the silence had grown so heavy she could stand it no longer, so she quietly said, "He’s leaving for St. Mungo’s on Sunday. Until then, I won’t see him unless I’m with you or Hermione."

"That would be good," said Ron without looking up. "Just leave me alone, okay?"

"Listen, Ron, I know you’re really upset right now, but remember, I’m the only one you can talk to about this. And I want you to know that I’m really sorry."

"Yeah, I bet you’re really sorry that you finally have Harry all to yourself. I know it’s what you’ve wanted all along. Quite convenient the way it worked out for you," said Ron savagely.

His words stung her, but Ginny knew they were born out of grief and frustration at the situation. And she really couldn’t blame him for feeling that way. As she headed toward the girls’ dormitory, she heard his books crashing to the ground again, and did not have the courage to look back.

* * * * *

The Great Hall was abuzz with gossip the next morning as Ron and Hermione sat down to breakfast. It appeared to be directed at the Slytherin table, which was uncharacteristically subdued and from which Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were all noticeably absent. Anthony had told Hermione he heard it had something to do with Goyle’s father, but he couldn’t provide any further details. Finally, the mail arrived, and an article on the front page of Hermione’s _Daily Prophet_ seemed to confirm the rumors.

"Listen to this," said Hermione to the Gryffindors surrounding her. "It says Goyle’s father was killed by an angry mob of wizards yesterday when it was discovered that he was the hit-wizard behind Ludo Bagman’s murder last March. Apparently, a crowd gathered around Goyle’s house as soon as the news of his actions became public and they hexed him as he stuck his head out of a second story window." Hermione was silent for a moment as she read the story to herself. "Oh dear," she said looking up at Ron. "They’ve taken Lucius Malfoy into custody for questioning because a witness saw him at Goyle’s house casting _Avada Kedavra_." Hermione looked up from the paper. "I thought they were friends, though."

"Maybe Malfoy thought Goyle was going to rat him out to the Ministry of Magic. If he was as thick as his son, Malfoy probably thought he was too stupid to keep his mouth shut." Ron shrugged. "Anyway, you’d have to be thick to trust a Malfoy to be your friend."

"Still, that has to put Draco and Greg in a bit of spot, doesn’t it?" Hermione looked around. "I don’t see them in here, do you?"

"No, and I consider that to be the highlight of my day so far," answered Ron. He was in a very foul mood, and couldn’t have cared less about anything involving Goyle or Malfoy. 

The only person Ron cared about was Harry. He missed Harry so much that it hurt, and for the first time in his life, he understood the meaning of the word "heartache." He’d hardly slept a wink, and the little sleep he did get was riddled with horrible dreams. Ginny glared at him from across the table, not daring to say a word. Her expression of concern was killing him, though. He had been nasty to her last night, and he supposed he should apologize.

"Ginny," Ron said, "look, I’m sorry about what I said last night. I was just upset."

Ginny smiled kindly at him. Ron hated the look of pity on her face. "I know that, Ron, and I don’t blame you. Just forget about it."

Hermione looked from Ron to Ginny, neither of whom was feeling a need to enlighten her on the previous night’s conversation. She broke the uncomfortable silence by saying, "Ron, if you insist on having additional Quidditch training this afternoon, it will cut into your study time for Charms. Are you sure you want to do that?"

Ron glowered at her. "Hermione, if we win the match on Saturday, then the Quidditch Cup is ours. If we don’t, then it goes to Slytherin. What could be more important?"

"I should think your NEWTs would be more important. But I don’t suppose I’ll ever be able to convince you of that. Just because it affects your whole future…"

Ron was highly agitated. "I don’t really care about NEWTs or my future right now. Harry deserves the Quidditch Cup and, dammit Hermione, I’m going to win it for him. Now if you don’t mind, just get off my back!" 

Ron rose from the table and stormed out of the Great Hall. He felt guilty almost immediately for taking out his anger at the situation on Hermione. But why couldn’t she understand that nothing mattered to him anymore, except Harry? Everything had changed, and there was no way he was going to be able to act normally when he had just lost his lover due to a tragic twist of fate.

Ron wandered aimlessly until the bell rang. Even though he was still irritated with Hermione, he couldn’t deny that it was important to attend class and prepare for his NEWTs. He sauntered off to Defense Against Dark Arts with a heavy heart.

* * * * *

Harry, Susan, Hermione and Anthony (who had been told Harry was back) were among the last students out of the castle on Saturday, and they hurried to the stands so as not to miss the entrance of the players onto the pitch. 

Dumbledore had suggested that Harry attend the match wearing his Invisibility Cloak in order to avoid awkward questions from his fellow students that he was incapable of answering due to his memory loss. Harry found wearing his Invisibility Cloak to be very exciting. As they approached the stadium, Hermione and Susan were on either side of him so that he wouldn’t accidentally bump into the other students. They found their seats just as the captains were approaching each other to shake hands.

Harry’s only recollection of Quidditch was the brief glimpse of his memory that Dumbledore had shown him the other day, and he found the real thing to be quite astonishing. Hermione was extremely pleased that Susan took up the task of explaining the finer points of the sport to Harry, as Hermione was never interested enough to bother learning the strategy. Susan, in addition to having spent many hours with Ron who obsessed about Quidditch, came from a wizard family and had two cousins that had played professionally several years back. Harry may not have remembered Quidditch, but as Susan explained what was happening, he was able to grasp the strategy very quickly.

The Gryffindor team was playing way beyond their usual capabilities. Ron was awesome, totally shutting out the Ravenclaw Chasers during the first half hour of play. The Gryffindor Chasers had racked up 130 points, 70 of which were scored by Ginny Weasley. Evans had dived for and missed the Golden Snitch four times before he finally caught it forty-five minutes into the match. Gryffindor won the game and the Quidditch Cup, and the roars from the crowd were deafening. 

Harry felt a pang of jealousy, intuitively knowing that he should have been on the field leading the celebration. "I want to go down onto the pitch," he shouted to Susan over the noise of the crowd. She was surprised, but took his hand and led him through the bleachers as he still wore his Invisibility Cloak, leaving Hermione behind to console Anthony over the Ravenclaw loss. When they reached the field, Harry let go of Susan’s hand and ran to where the team was gathering to pose for a picture.

Harry snuck up behind Ron and whispered, "Ron, it’s me, Harry. Nice job, mate. You really looked spectacular up there."

Ron stepped away from his teammates and whispered back in the direction he thought Harry might be standing, "Thanks, Harry. It should have been you as captain, though, not me. I told them that we were playing for you today, and see how well they did?" Colin Creevey, the photographer, was beckoning Ron to return to his teammates. "Harry, take the Cloak off and be in these pictures. We’d never have won the Cup if it wasn’t for you, even if you can’t remember it."

It took some persuading, but finally Harry removed the Invisibility Cloak and was overwhelmed by the response from the team as they mobbed him. Ron’s voice could be heard authoritatively addressing them, "Back off and let him breathe! He didn’t defeat Voldemort just to be smothered to death by you lot!" Harry couldn’t remember ever feeling like a hero in his life, but he sure did now. Harry was in the center of the pictures, surrounded by crimson and gold and holding the Quidditch Cup, with Ron on one side and Ginny on the other. He was grateful to have the opportunity to participate in the spoils of victory, and felt a pang of regret over not knowing what it meant to everyone.

Ron and Ginny covered for Harry’s memory loss beautifully, and none of their teammates were any the wiser after their brief encounter. He told them that he had some medical problems due to the battle with Voldemort and that he would be leaving Hogwarts soon, and they seemed to accept the news of Harry’s imminent departure fairly well.

After the celebration died down, Harry sat on the lawn with Susan, Hermione and Anthony while waiting for Ron and Ginny to emerge from the changing rooms. As they walked out, they were bickering like small children.

"What’s the matter with you?" Ginny said heatedly. "He’s only just gotten out of the hospital wing!"

"You’re not arguing about me, I hope," called Harry as they approached.

Ginny and Ron glanced at one another uncomfortably. "My genius brother has come up with the brilliant idea of taking Harry out flying this afternoon."

"Oh would you!" interrupted Harry. "I’ve been wanting to fly ever since Ron told me I owned a broomstick."

"See, I told you he’d want to," gloated Ron. "Anyway, Gin, you didn’t see him fly for the very first time, like I did. He’s a natural. I’m sure he’ll be just fine, and I’ll be right beside him if anything goes wrong."

The six of them tramped off to the broom shed. Harry was enthralled with his Firebolt, which seemed to recognize his grip when he held it. Ron gave Harry a few basic instructions and they mounted their brooms. Susan and Ginny flew on either side of Harry, and Ron flew below and slightly behind them. It was amazing to watch Harry who, with no memory of being a wizard, was able to soar effortlessly into the sky. Anthony and Hermione had stayed on the ground, ostensibly to perform cushioning charms if necessary, but it was obvious after a few minutes that their services would not be required. Ginny and Susan, who were both flying Cleansweeps, were having trouble keeping up, and pretty soon Harry and Ron were off on their Firebolts just like old times.

When Ron and Harry returned to their friends twenty minutes later, Harry was elated. He declared several times on their way back to the castle that flying on a broomstick was the most fun he’d ever had in his life. As they walked back to the castle, the three boys arm-in-arm with their girlfriends, Ron’s grief had eased somewhat. He might not have had his lover back, but Harry was still his best mate, and it seemed that even a total memory loss couldn’t put a damper on their friendship.

* * * * *

At Dumbledore’s request, Harry was whisked quietly off to St. Mungo’s via portkey. His friends had said their goodbyes before dinner, with promises to write often, and then he was gone. Ron pushed his food around his plate, unable to overcome the loneliness that was building inside him. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and left the Great Hall halfway through the meal.

Hermione finally found him two hours later sitting in the Room of Requirement. It was adorned like one of the House common rooms, with rich red carpeting, plenty of comfortable couches and armchairs and a fire blazing on the hearth. Ron was sitting on a leather couch staring into the fire, and he flinched with surprise when he saw Hermione sit down next to him out of the corner of his puffy red eyes.

"What are you doing here?" asked Ron thickly. 

"I’ve been looking for you ever since dinner, and by the way, you forgot to lock the door." Hermione had never seen her friend so despondent. To look at Ron, you’d think Harry had died, rather than just gone away for a few months to get his memory back.

"Look, Hermione, I just want to be alone right now. I’m not up to a lecture on how badly I’m going to blow my NEWTs. I’ve been having a little trouble caring about them lately, in case you hadn’t noticed." 

Ron’s eyes caught Hermione’s, and he could almost see the debate she was having with herself. Ron supposed she had something to say that he didn’t want to hear, and was fighting with herself to see if she should say it anyway.

"Ron," she said finally, "it’s okay. You can talk to me about it if you want. I already know."

"What is it that you think you already know?"

"About you and Harry…as a couple, I mean." Ron was stunned. How could she possibly know? He hadn’t told anyone, and he didn’t think Harry or Ginny had either. She had to be bluffing.

"Me and Harry as a couple? Yeah, right." Ron tried to make his voice sound sarcastic, but he wasn’t sure he’d been able to pull it off.

"I’ve known for ages, Ron. I was hurt at first that neither of you told me, but then I figured you might believe I’d think less of you if I thought you were gay…"

"I’m not gay!" exclaimed Ron defensively. "And neither is Harry."

"Whatever, it doesn’t matter. If you came out as transvestites, you and Harry would still be my best friends. I care about you and it really hurts me to see you so upset." Hermione reached out and pulled him into a comforting embrace.

"Who told you?" asked Ron after a moment, as he pulled away from her.

"Well, after Ginny mentioned the Tyet of Isis that time, I did some research in the library. Isis is fascinating, isn’t she? Anyway, I came across a book that described using the Tyet of Isis amulet to invoke Isis’ protection for your lover, and it became very obvious what was going on. I never said anything to anyone else, though. Not even Anthony or Ginny."

"Ginny knows. She accidentally walked in on Harry and me kissing. It was her idea to pretend to be Harry’s girlfriend." Ron saw Hermione’s shock at this news. "Er, Hermione, are you angry that we didn’t tell you?"

"No, I mean, I wish you had, but I’m over it. I was just thinking how very complicated it all is. Everyone knows that Ginny’s in love with Harry. We’ve teased her about it for years!" Hermione slumped back into the couch with a sigh.

Ron turned to Hermione and put his hand on her shoulder. "It’s even more complicated than you think it is. Since losing his memory, Harry has become very, er, smitten with Ginny. He keeps wanting to kiss her and be alone with her."

"Oh dear. This is a mess," said Hermione. She and Ron both sat in silence, pondering the absurdity of the situation.

They talked for a long while, about Harry and Ginny and Susan. Ron had to admit that, for all their sniping at each other over the years, Hermione was definitely the friend you wanted to talk to when you were hurting. She seemed to understand exactly how he felt, and it was easy to talk to her.

"You know, Ron," said Hermione after they had been silent for a while, "maybe fate just stepped in and brought you and Harry together so that you could save him with the Tyet of Isis. I mean it’s got to be more than a coincidence that as soon as Harry’s reason for needing protection is destroyed, his romantic feelings for you suddenly disappear."

Ron’s eyes opened wide. He hadn’t told a soul about the prophecy, but now that Voldemort was gone, there was no reason to keep it a secret any longer. Ron spilled the whole story of the prophecy to Hermione, including how he had seen Professor Trelawney in the pensieve and how he had asked Dumbledore whether he and Harry had been destined for each other. Hermione listened with rapt attention, and seemed fascinated that the events had all been foretold. When Ron was finished, he watched her as she thought through the ramifications of his story and formulated a theory.

Hermione stared into his eyes with every ounce of sincerity she possessed. "Tell me the truth, Ron. Are you upset because you think you’ve lost Harry, or is it because you and Harry went through this great adventure together as lovers, and now that adventure is over?"

"I don’t like what you’re implying, Hermione," said Ron. "Are you saying that Harry and I... that what we had was just some kind of a spell or something?"

Hermione shook her head briskly, causing her bushy curls to fall across her face. "No, Ron, I’m not saying that at all. I just –"

Ron narrowed his eyes as he interrupted her. "I swear to you, it’s real. I love Harry. I couldn’t have protected him unless we had a bond of true love, remember? He and I were great together. I don’t expect you to understand this, but being with Harry made me feel things I never felt before."

"I do understand that, I really do," replied Hermione. She hesitated, and then continued quietly, "But maybe after Harry lost his memory you just, well, fell out of love. I guess what I’m asking you to do is think whether he had that effect on you _this week_. Was there anytime since you left the hospital wing that he made you feel those things?"

Ron was quiet. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t really felt the knots in his stomach or racing in his heart when Harry was nearby. There had been some jealousy for sure, and the time that he had spent riding the Firebolts with Harry was a blast, but not in the least bit romantic. For a fleeting moment, Ron allowed himself to seriously consider the possibility that he had also fallen out of love. He looked cautiously at Hermione, who was patiently waiting for him to say something. "You’re really amazing, you know?"

Hermione smiled. She knew. "Well, I just wanted to make sure that if you are grieving, it’s at least about the right thing. Look, Ron. I know you still love him, and you probably always will. But I’d hate to see you pining away after Harry, who seems to have moved on, when there’s someone right here who is crazy about you."

"You mean Susan?" asked Ron quietly.

"It’s been really hard for her this week watching you so upset about Harry. She’d never say this to you, Ron, because she knows that Harry is special to you, but I think she has sensed that Harry is more important to you than she is. And she’s a good person, Ron. If it’s really over between you and Harry, I don’t think you really want her to get away." 

Hermione stood up and fiddled with the fire, giving Ron a few minutes alone with his thoughts. He quickly determined that he had no idea how he really felt about Harry, but Hermione was right – there was no point to wallowing in self-pity and messing up his future by brooding about the way things used to be. He joined Hermione at the hearth and turned her toward him.

"Thanks, Hermione," said Ron. "I really mean it. I’ll think about what you said. Does Anthony know what a special girlfriend he has?"

"Of course he does," said Hermione, smiling wickedly. "I tell him all the time."

They left the Room of Requirement and headed back to Gryffindor Tower. Neither of them knew how the coming months would turn out, but their secrets had been shared and they were as close as they’d ever been. Whatever Harry was like after his recovery, they’d find a way to deal with it and would welcome him back into the trio. It felt nice to know that no matter what happened, the three of them would always be special to one another.

* * * * *

Ron’s talk with Hermione had two major effects. The first was that his concentration improved and he was able to focus on revising for his NEWTs. The second effect was that he noticed more about Susan than ever before. She really was perfect for him. She was sweet, but could tease him as readily as Fred and George, and she had an easygoing style about her that helped him to stay calm. And now he noticed when he kissed her, he felt a tingle of excitement in his groin. Ron doubted that he’d ever have another lover as sexy and intense and exciting as Harry, who could get Ron’s body to respond to just a look, but he was certain that if was really over between him and Harry, Susan might make a fine substitute. He’d have to figure out a way to leave behind the moral high ground before that could happen, though.

NEWTs were both nasty and exhausting to all except Hermione, who found them "invigorating." With their final NEWT exams behind them, the seventh years had plenty of time for sleeping late and skiving off. Ron’s last exam had been Defense Against the Dark Arts, which went surprisingly well considering that Harry was not available to give them tips and advice. 

Harry had been a regular correspondent, however, so it was no surprise when Hedwig showed up with a letter addressed to Ron at breakfast. The contents of the note were surprising, though. Instead of the progress reports he customarily sent ("I remembered that time we hexed Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle on the Hogwarts Express and everybody did a different curse"), it was extremely short.

  
  


> Ron,
> 
> Is there any chance you can come visit me at St. Mungo’s? My latest restored memories   
> concern you, and I really need to talk to you. Please send your answer right away.
> 
> Harry

Ron immediately tracked down Professor McGonagall, who referred him to Professor Dumbledore. Dumbledore granted his permission and before long, Ron was walking through the main gates in order to Apparate to London. Hermione’s parting advice to Ron was that he pay attention to what he was feeling and why. That was easy for her to say. She had no idea how Harry’s beautiful smile addled his brain.

Ron tried not to think about Harry as he attempted to Apparate to London, not wanting to splinch himself or end up miles off course. Considering how little practice he’d had, Ron was in London in short order, trying to get his bearings and figure out which direction led to St. Mungo’s.

He saw some taller buildings in the distance, so Ron headed towards them. As luck would have it, he had gone only six blocks when he saw a large red brick building ahead with a dilapidated sign that read Purge and Dowse Ltd. Ron was astounded that nothing about the building had changed since his last visit to St. Mungo’s over two years ago. As he walked the perimeter of the building, he saw the same pathetic collection of ancient dummies, and the sentry was still wearing the hopelessly out-of-date lime green pinafore dress.

Ron stood before the dummy and tried to remember what name Dumbledore had told him Harry was using. _Oh yeah_. "I’m here to see Harry Evans." The dummy beckoned him inside and, after glancing around to see that no Muggles were watching him, he walked through the window.

He knew Harry was on the fourth floor, so Ron waded quickly through the cacophony of the reception area and out the double doors to the stairway. When he reached the fourth floor, he saw a pretty young witch sitting behind a long counter. He thought she looked vaguely familiar, but she recognized him immediately.

"Well, if it isn’t Ron Weasley! I was wondering when you’d show up. You’re here to see Harry, er, Evans I suppose…" The witch noticed that Ron couldn’t place her. "I’m Patricia Stimpson. I was in Fred and George’s year at Hogwarts."

Now Ron remembered her. He had a vague recollection that Fred and George were not all that complimentary of her, but the reason escaped him. "Oh, right. Nice to see you again. Er, yes, I’m here to see Harry."

"Wait here a minute. I’ll go and get him. It’s been so nice to have Harry here. Of course, he doesn’t remember me, but at least he’s not out of his mind like some of our patients." As Patricia disappeared through a door labeled " _Guillaume Forget Ward_ " it occurred to Ron that perhaps Harry couldn’t remember Patricia because she wasn’t exactly memorable.

Ron paced anxiously in front of the counter, wondering which memories Harry had recovered, and what he wanted to talk about. He also heard Hermione’s voice in the back of his mind reminding him to pay attention to his feelings. Yes, he’d have to remember to do that.

Harry appeared in the doorway with a broad grin across his face. "I wasn’t expecting you to come straightaway, but I’m glad you did. Come see my luxurious accommodations!"

Ron followed him through the _Guillaume Forget_ doorway and was surprised that the surroundings were quite comfortable and not at all like the sparse and antiseptic ward that his dad had been in after being attacked by Voldemort’s snake. Harry’s room was a short way down the hall. It was warm and inviting. In addition to a bed, there was a small couch and a writing desk. 

"This is pretty nice, actually. I was expecting something a little more like a hospital," said Ron. His eye caught a large pile of parchment lying on top of the desk. "Are you writing a book while you’re here?"

Harry laughed. "No, it’s part of my therapy. Healer Wilkes is having me write down the new things that I remember everyday to make sure the memories make sense and he didn’t connect up the wrong bits. It’s pretty interesting, though. I expect some of the things that have happened to me would make a good novel."

"I think you’re right," said Ron. He heard Hermione’s voice in his head again and mentally assessed his emotions. _Nervous, glad to see Harry, no fireworks._ "Are you getting on okay, mate? It’s hard to tell much from your letters."

"It’s not too bad. Of course, I’d like to be out flying on my broomstick or spending time with people my own age. That Healer-in-training, Patricia, is driving me mad, though. To hear her speak, we were close friends, but I haven’t come across her in any of my memories so far."

"You probably won’t either," said Ron. "She was a Gryffindor two years ahead of us, but I barely remember her. I don’t think Fred and George thought much of her."

"That’s good to know. Anyway, I’m doing this therapy every day and it’s pretty wild to relive all my memories. Once I think about them, suddenly things I’ve remembered before will make sense. It’s fascinating really." Harry sat down on the couch and invited Ron to do the same.

Ron was having trouble waiting for Harry to get to the purpose of the visit. His curiosity was killing him – he just had to know which memories Harry had remembered. 

Harry must have felt the same, though, because he blurted out suddenly, "Ron, I think I’ve remembered enough about you and me to figure out why you were acting so strange before I left Hogwarts and why you told me some of things you did. But Healer Wilkes is getting frustrated with me because I keep pushing him away from certain areas of my brain that I don’t want him to see. The problem is, I don’t know why I won’t let him see them, or at least I didn’t think I knew until yesterday."

Ron swallowed. It sure sounded to him like Harry was using his Occlumency skills to keep Healer Wilkes from seeing the two of them together. _Loyal to the end,_ thought Ron. "So how can I help you?" he asked. "Do you want me to explain something?" 

Ron could see that Harry was uncomfortable. He swallowed hard and quietly responded, "I just need to know if I’m right that you and I were… er, that we had…"

Ron could tell it was only going to become even more awkward if they didn’t just talk about it, so he summoned all his Gryffindor courage and interrupted, "You and I were lovers, Harry. For six months we were incredible together, you and me." Ron blushed as he said this, and he noticed that Harry did too.

"So when you told me in the hospital wing that we were as close as it was possible to be, you really meant it," said Harry. Ron nodded. "And when I remembered being attacked by Voldemort, I heard a voice in my head saying ‘I love you, Harry, and I’ll protect you’, it was your voice, wasn’t it?" 

"Yes," answered Ron. "We were able to communicate through the amulet."

"So, Ron," Harry asked solemnly, "what is the room I keep remembering with a big purple four-poster, and why do I keep blocking Healer Wilkes from seeing it?" 

Ron knew that Harry already knew the answer to the question, but it was really making him uncomfortable and he needed confirmation from Ron. "That room is called the Room of Requirement. It is a magical place that changes according to what you need. You and I used to conjure it, mostly on Sunday mornings, to have sex." Ron bravely stared down Harry. He felt it was important for Harry to know that he was not embarrassed about their relationship and had no regrets.

Harry nodded. "That’s what I thought," he said quietly. Ron could see that Harry’s breathing was labored, and he was at a loss for what to say next. Ron was not used to seeing Harry like this. He’d always been so confident and self-assured, and definitely the dominant personality in their relationship. Ron reminded himself that Harry was a boy who was working on half a memory, who had just learned something about his past that surprised and upset him. It was going to have to be up to Ron to put him at ease.

"Would it help if I told you the whole story? Our last six months together have been very complicated, and if you only remember a little bit at a time, it will be very confusing." Only Ron realized that this was a huge understatement. Even _he_ couldn’t think about his relationship with Harry without his head spinning.

Harry got up from the couch and poured himself a glass of water. "Do you want one?" he asked Ron, who nodded. As he handed the glass to Ron he said softly, "Yes, I think you’d better tell me everything. Ginny told me things were complicated too, and now I’m beginning to understand what she meant."

Ron started describing the events as they happened, from the first hints of romantic interest to their Christmas holidays, to Ginny’s role in the cover-up, all the way through the final demise of Voldemort. He did not embellish the tale, nor did he leave out any important details. It would be up to Harry’s memory to fill in the feelings and emotions he felt.

"There are also a couple of things I can tell you that you won’t have any memories of because you didn’t know about them. The day you left Hogwarts to come here, I learned that Hermione had found out about us sometime back in February, but hadn’t said anything to anyone. She figured we didn’t tell her because we thought she wouldn’t want to be friends with us anymore. She would have been fine with it, though, and I feel a little guilty that we didn’t tell her. We should have known she’d find out somehow.

"The other thing you never knew because Dumbledore swore me to secrecy until after Voldemort was destroyed. Now that he’s gone, I guess I can tell you. Have you remembered anything about Divination and Professor Trelawney yet?"

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, last week sometime I remembered that she kept seeing the Grim in my tea leaves. Right old fraud, she is. Didn’t we think so?"

Ron smiled. "Yeah. Well, I used to anyway. Now I still think she’s a fraud at Divination, but she also said two prophecies to Dumbledore and one to you. Does any of this sound familiar?"

"No," said Harry. "I must not have gotten to those memories yet."

"It doesn’t really matter, I guess. Her first prophecy to Dumbledore was about you and how you and Voldemort were going to battle one another. She spoke her second one to you, after our Divination exam third year. It predicted that Voldemort would return to power, which he did in less than a year. But it was her third prophecy that was really important to us. She predicted that the ‘one who could vanquish the Dark Lord would have a Protector’ – and Dumbledore determined that you were the one to kill Voldemort and I was your Protector. It was just after I’d given you the Tyet of Isis, see, and Dumbledore fit all the pieces together. But this prophecy said that your Protector would only be able to protect you as long as the bond of true love remained unbroken."

Ron was quiet for a moment, giving Harry a chance to work out the implications of this information. It soon became clear, though, that Harry didn’t have a clue why this was relevant.

"Harry, don’t you see? You don’t need a Protector any more because the Dark Lord is destroyed. The bond that we needed to have before – we don’t really need it now. Maybe the only reason that you and I were together in the first place was so that I could protect you and fulfill the prophecy…"

Ron’s words hung heavily between them, as Harry struggled to understand. The memory loss was a problem. Even with Ron’s explanation, Harry couldn’t see how he had ever felt romantic towards Ron. But it all made sense. The pieces fit, however oddly they were shaped.

Harry finally spoke. "So what do we do from here, Ron? I mean…do you still feel like that? Because maybe it’s my memory loss, but I’m having a hard time thinking of you as anything but my friend." He looked anxious, and worried about hurting Ron’s feelings.

"I don’t know. I’ve never been very good with feelings and stuff. It’s definitely different, but I haven’t figured out whether that’s because you’ve changed or I have." Ron paused while he and Harry gazed into each other’s eyes, searching for emotions in the other that they couldn’t feel in themselves. "I have an idea how we might find out, though."

"How?" asked Harry.

"If we kiss, I think I’ll know." Harry looked at him, wide-eyed and curious. If even half of what Ron had told him was true, it was nothing that he hadn’t done before when he was in full possession of his memory. And what harm could it do, really. "Okay," said Harry tentatively.

Ron pulled Harry closer and kissed him with the same fervor that he’d had a hundred times before. Harry was tense at first, but then he relaxed and began to enjoy it. When they broke apart, they stared into each other’s eyes again.

"That was nice," said Harry, breathlessly. Ron noticed that his eyes were not shiny with lust as he was accustomed to seeing.

"But no fireworks?" asked Ron.

"No."

"Me neither. I guess that settles it, then." Ron couldn’t help feeling let down. Hermione had been right, as usual. It seemed that he had fallen out of love with Harry after all. Or maybe it was the feeling of knowing that Harry was head-over-heels in love with him that had caused Ron to fall in love with Harry in the first place. Things were definitely different now, though, whatever the reason. But on the positive side, he and Harry felt the same way, so they could go back to being mates without any problems.

"Still mates, though?" asked Harry, seeming to read his mind.

"Always," said Ron.

Ron spent the day visiting with Harry and catching him up on the goings-on of everyone at Hogwarts. When it was time for Harry’s appointment with Healer Wilkes, Ron got up to leave. He no longer felt sad, though. In fact, he felt more hopeful about his future and Harry’s – together as mates – than he had in a long time. 

"Harry," said Ron when they got to the door to the ward, "I want you to do something for me."

"All right," he replied. "What is it?"

"Let Healer Wilkes see _all_ your memories. Some of the things you’re going to remember before he’s through are really horrible. I want to make sure you remember the good things too. Because Harry, we were brilliant!" Ron clapped Harry on the shoulders and walked through the locking double doors. When he glanced back, he could see Harry smiling at him through the glass. It was still Harry’s special smile, but now, instead of causing Ron’s heart to leap, it simply made him feel very lucky to have his friend back.

Maybe, thought Ron as he walked out onto the windy London sidewalk, Mum and Dad would let Harry stay at the Burrow after he got out of St. Mungo’s. He’d talk to Dumbledore about that. For now, there were classes to finish and applications to fill out for Auror School, and probably some fences to be mending with Susan. What a strange year this turned out to be after all! Ron ducked into a deserted alley and Disapparated back to Hogwarts.

 


	12. PUTTING THINGS RIGHT

  
Author's notes: **Author's Notes:**  I originally wrote this story with Chapter 11 as the ending. When I posted it, I was amazed and disheartened by the uproar from readers who loved everything about the story but the ending. It made me realize that I could not leave my beloved Harry and Ron in such an unsettled state. I therefore dedicate this final chapter, _Putting Things Right_ , to the readers at the [harry_and_ron](http://www.livejournal.com/community/harry_and_ron/) community on livejournal.com who convinced me this final chapter was necessary. I also want to thank Kate, who was right all along, for the superb beta.  


* * *

Harry was sore, having spent the past three hours on his Firebolt. It was unseasonably warm for the first of October, and the lure of an extra hour of Quidditch practice had been too good to pass up. The others had gone back to the castle long ago, and Harry decided that he, too, ought to be finishing up his homework. He landed in front of the changing rooms and went inside for a quick shower.

Quidditch was really the only thing keeping him at Hogwarts this year. The only time he really felt alive was when he was flying; something about the wind in his hair and the lurch in his stomach each time he dove for the Snitch gave him a thrill and made him feel happy. Quidditch was the highlight of his otherwise monotonous life.

Harry understood the significance of NEWTs, but if he were honest, he didn’t much care what kind of a job he got next summer. Except that he _did_ have a secret desire to play professional Quidditch, and no NEWTs would be required for that. The fantasy of playing professional Quidditch fueled his ambition to train harder than ever before, and it was not unusual for Harry to be the last one off the pitch after practice.

Harry stood under the warm water, absently lathering his well-toned muscles as he thought about Quidditch strategies. He was trying to recall a certain Chaser formation Ron had designed which had really helped them rack up points in their nasty match against Slytherin last year. 

As Harry turned off the water and headed back to dress, he was blindsided by a sudden memory of winning that Slytherin match and celebrating with Ron. He’d briefly remembered this before, during a session with Healer Wilkes. Then it had been like watching the memory on television – entertaining, but not feeling like it had happened to him. Now, in addition to remembering the event, he actually _felt_ the lightheaded joy of the victory. It sent shivers down his spine. Harry had awakened from the emotional haze that had surrounded him for months, and he had forgotten until now just what deep emotions felt like physically. 

Healer Wilkes had warned Harry that something like this might happen. He’d called the phenomenon by its funny Muggle name: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. At the time, Harry had taken offense at the idea of having a "disorder." As Healer Wilkes had described it to Harry, his Occlumency skills were so highly developed that they were acting like a protective barrier between his healing brain and the disturbing emotions that would certainly send him around the twist. Healer Wilkes had worried that the barrier might give way at some point, and Harry would have to relive the memories along with the horrible feelings that accompanied them.

He quickly sat down on the bench with his head in his hands, hoping that the feeling was just hunger. But sitting on the bench reminded Harry of the way Ron had sat in that very spot just before they had kissed for the first time. His lightheadedness turned to a deep yearning from somewhere in his midsection. His cock twitched at the memory of seeing Ron wrapped in a towel with an obvious hard-on, and his breathing quickened. It appeared that his Occlumency barrier had finally broken down, although these emotions weren’t horrible – merely intense. 

Feelings and flashbacks started to bombard him: learning he was a wizard, saving Ginny from Tom Riddle, winning the Quidditch cup, and defeating Draco Malfoy with the Tyet of Isis. He remembered excitement of the first time he had sex with Ron, the desperate longing to spend every waking moment together, and his satisfaction on the morning of Ron’s birthday when Harry had surprised him. 

Harry had just gotten used to the physical feelings of elation and lust, when the memory of watching Sirius fall through the veil popped into his head. The despair that accompanied that memory brought him to his knees. Sirius was the closest person to a father he’d ever known, and the loss had cut him to the quick. Then it was accompanied by anger and horror as he remembered Cedric Diggory falling to the ground, dead. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he recalled the terror of his fight with Voldemort in the graveyard: being helplessly bound to the tombstone, seeing the images of his parents emerge from Voldemort’s wand, and narrowly escaping his own death. Hatred filled him to the core as Harry heard Bellatrix Lestrange’s voice taunting him because he was unable to torture her with the Cruciatus curse. 

The thoughts and feelings kept coming, and Harry was powerless to stop them. It was as physically painful to him as being subjected to the Cruciatus curse. Voldemort hadn’t been able to kill him, but the pain of these memories just might. Harry didn’t think it was possible for a person to feel this much. The good emotions seemed to hurt as much as the bad and it was sensory overload for someone who had forgotten how to feel. Harry cried out in anguish, every muscle in his body trembling, knowing that no one was there to help him.

 

Ginny tapped her foot anxiously, hardly able to study despite the relative quiet of the common room. Where was Harry? Ginny had been confused about a spell they had learned in their last Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and she really needed Harry to explain it to her before tomorrow’s lesson. She looked at her watch; he should have been here by now.

Scanning the room, she saw Andrew Kirke chatting with some fifth years when he should have been writing his Ancient Runes paper. Ginny asked him to join her in the search for Harry, and he readily agreed.

"He’s probably still on the Quidditch pitch," said Andrew. "He always loses track of time when he’s flying. Of course, if I had a Firebolt, I’d probably do the same thing."

Ginny nodded. "Yeah, let’s try there first." They headed out the door, their books abandoned on the tables.

Harry was nowhere to be seen when they got to the field. It looked as though he’d put away the practice equipment, so if Harry was still down here, he was likely in the shower. Andrew went inside to check.

"Ginny, come quick," Andrew yelled a few seconds later.

Ginny rushed into the boys’ changing area and stopped short when she saw them. Harry was huddled in a corner rocking back and forth, crouched in a fetal position. His cheeks were stained with the tracks of tears that had long since run dry. He was clutching the amulet that hung from a chain around his neck. 

From trembling lips they heard him moan, "God, what have I done?"

* * * * *

The din coming from the Great Hall was deafening as Ron stood in the doorway searching for Harry. Halloween was still several days away, but it appeared Hagrid had been getting an early start on the decorations for the traditional Halloween feast. Ron couldn’t imagine what was so urgent that would have caused Dumbledore to have him miss Auror school that day so that Ron could "cheer Harry up." From across the hall, Harry looked perfectly fine to him, although Ron did notice that he wasn’t speaking with anyone.

Ron watched as Ginny stood up from her place next to Harry. He was shocked when she shot Harry a contemptuous glance before leaving without saying a word. Mum had mentioned to him that Harry and Ginny’s relationship was a bit strained, and that appeared to be an understatement judging from what he had just witnessed. Ron called out to Ginny as she nearly passed by him without looking up.

"Ron, I didn’t know you were coming here!" exclaimed Ginny, giving him a quick hug.

"It was kind of a surprise to me, too. Dumbledore only arranged it this morning."

Ginny rolled her eyes. Her brother wasn’t here to visit her; she gathered he’d been summoned to try to knock some sense into Harry. "Listen, Ron, I’m late for Transfiguration. Can we talk at lunchtime?"

"Yeah, sure," replied Ron. "I’m planning to be here all day."

Ginny left, and Ron approached Harry, who was perusing the _Daily Prophet_. Ron hadn’t seen Harry since the two weeks he’d spent at the Burrow right before term started, and things between them had been awkward to say the least. Harry had been so cool and aloof – so unlike the Harry that he’d known for seven years and fallen in love with – that it had been difficult for Ron to spend time alone with him. So now it was a bit surprising to Ron when he felt his heart race merely from noticing how attractive Harry looked as he concentrated on his paper. Perhaps it was because they’d spent a couple of months apart or because Ron was no longer seeing Susan, but the long-forgotten knots in the pit of his stomach that only Harry could induce had returned. Ron gazed longingly at his friend, fighting back the urge to run his fingers through Harry’s messy hair. He shook his head to snap out of it. Harry had made it clear that he no longer felt anything romantic for Ron; all that Harry felt for him before was just to fulfill that stupid prophecy. Ron would just embarrass himself if he acted like an infatuated school girl. He took a deep breath and sidled up to the table.

"Skiving off this morning, mate?" Ron asked cheekily.

"Wha—? No. Ron!" Harry was genuinely surprised to see him, and a smile lit up his face. "What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

Ron bit his lip as he remembered exactly how Harry’s smile always made him feel. "Dumbledore asked me to come. He figured you might be in need of some cheering up, so naturally, he thought of me."

"He’s right," said Harry, his green eyes dancing behind his glasses. "That is…I’m glad you’re here."

Ron sat down next to him and helped himself to a mug of tea. Without being asked, Harry passed him the sugar bowl, and when their fingers touched, it was as if an electrical spark had shot between them. Harry and Ron glanced at each other, startled, and then looked away.

_Get a grip,_ Ron chastised himself. He couldn’t go making Harry uncomfortable by being unable to control himself. "Come to think of it," Ron said, "I could use a bit of cheering up myself. It’s been a difficult week."

"What happened?" Harry’s eyes reflected kindness and compassion; these were expressions Ron hadn’t seen from Harry since before he lost his memory.

"Oh, I, er… Susan and I broke up last weekend. But I’m not in the mood to talk about that right now. Tell me what you’ve been up to. You stopped writing, so I thought maybe you were angry with me."

"No! God, no, I’m not angry. I’ve just been going through a rough spell. It’s been hard being back here this year." 

Ron imagined it was very awkward having to fit in with a new group of friends for the school year, especially when one happened to be the savior of the wizarding world. He must be lonely; but it was too much to hope that some of his difficulty might be due to being so far away from Ron. He surveyed Harry as if for the first time. "No offense, Harry, but you look like hell."

"Thanks."

"No, I just mean that, well, the last time I saw you, at the Burrow, you were so, er, calm and well-rested. Have you slept at all since coming back here?" _Really smooth, Weasley,_ Ron thought sarcastically. _You sound like a moron._

Harry seemed uncomfortable with Ron’s scrutiny. "Not much lately." 

"How come you don’t have morning classes?" Ron asked smiling and trying to ignore the rush of anxiety he was feeling. Nearly six months had passed since their last romantic night together – the night before Harry had gone off to defeat Voldemort – and Ron could still remember it like it was yesterday. He thought by now he’d have gotten used to the idea of merely being friends with Harry. And it wasn’t as if he had any hope that things would ever be the same as before, but damn! Harry still made his stomach lurch whenever he gazed into Ron’s eyes. It just wasn’t fair that Harry was so appealing even when he looked like shit. 

"I’m taking some time off from lessons while I, er, work out some stuff. Everyone assumes it’s because I already had these classes last year," Harry answered vaguely.

Ron felt Harry was holding something back, but he decided not to pry. Instead, he asked, "Do you really have to be in school all year? Maybe Dumbledore could just let you sit for NEWTs; you could revise on your own. I’d help you."

"No. I thought about asking him, but apparently there are still Death Eaters on the loose who would like to see me dead, so he reckons it’s safest for me to stay here. And now, after…what happened recently, he’s not going to let me live by myself for a long time."

"Did I miss something? You haven’t been attacked or anything, have you?" asked Ron, the concern evident in his voice. 

Harry sighed deeply and glanced around. There were still a fair few people lingering at the breakfast table. "No, it’s nothing like that. I suppose I’d better tell you the whole story before you hear it from Ginny. Let’s go somewhere else, though."

They decided a walk around the lake would be the best way to keep Harry’s story away from his curious schoolmates. The air was chilly, but the sun shone brightly in the cloudless blue sky. The scent of autumn was thick in the air.

Harry began by telling Ron that he’d been discharged from St. Mungo’s last August without being completely healed. He tried to explain to Ron what he had been like.

"Healer Wilkes was able to restore my ability to remember things that happened, but it was like looking at wizard photographs or Muggle television. I knew the people and places, but I didn’t feel any connection to them at all. I didn’t really know what it felt like to care about anything." Harry paused for a moment as they walked on the path.

"I’d remember something really bad…like… when Sirius was killed, and it was kind of sad to think about, but it didn’t really affect me at all."

Ron looked scandalized. "But Harry, you were so upset when Sirius died that we thought for a while you were going to kill yourself. You were devastated."

Harry nodded. "That’s what I mean. I was totally detached from these events and people I remembered. But the worst part was that I didn’t realize that I _ought_ to feel anything. Everyone acted uncomfortable when I was around, and I couldn’t figure out why. But even that didn’t bother me as much as it should have."

"That explains why it was so weird to be around you last summer."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"It was so creepy. You looked and sounded like you, and you were pleasant enough, I guess, but it was like – I don’t know – like some stranger had polyjuiced into you. Hermione called you something… a robot, I think…but I’m not sure what she meant by that. Anyway, that’s why I didn’t spend much time with you when you stayed at the Burrow."

"Do I still seem like that?"

"No. And it’s strange, because when I saw you this morning, I could tell right away that something was different about you. I thought it was because I hadn’t seen you in a while."

"You said I look like hell," said Harry with a grin.

Ron shrugged. "Sorry."

They had stopped walking to sit on a large boulder, which was their usual resting place whenever they strolled around the lake. Harry and Ron stared at each other without saying anything. Harry had always worn his heart on his sleeve, but Ron couldn’t guess his thoughts now because there was too much turmoil within him. It was scary – last year he knew Harry’s emotions so well, he could read him like a book. Even so, at least now he seemed more like the old Harry than the boy who had visited the Burrow during the summer.

Ron broke the silence by prompting, "So you started this by saying that something happened recently…"

"Oh yeah, that. I… well, it’s really hard to explain," Harry began, his voice weak and shaking. It was only then that Ron realized Harry was on the verge of tears. Whatever had happened was extremely difficult for him to talk about. Instinctively, Ron put his arm around Harry, who looked up at him with surprise and relief.

It took the better part of an hour, but Harry finally got the entirety of his story out, having had to stop several times because he was unable to control his emotions. Ron was a sympathetic listener, although he had to hold himself in check to refrain from comforting Harry with his lips.

Their fingers were threaded together when Harry finally finished his explanation.

"So I’ve had to stop going to classes," Harry said, "because I can’t keep these thoughts out of my head, and I’m constantly worried I’m going to burst into tears at any moment. Healer Wilkes says I’ll be able to control it again, but not until my psyche has a chance to heal."

"There’s got to be something I can do to help," said Ron, his dry throat cracking.

"You’re already doing it," replied Harry with a weak smile. "You’re here."

Ron had never wanted to wrap his arms around Harry and kiss away his worries more than he did now. Ron might have fallen out of love with that other version of Harry – the robot, as Hermione had called him – but this was _his_ Harry, the one that he still loved. Ron felt Harry’s pain, and he wanted so much to comfort him. But he couldn’t say anything, not now when Harry’s emotions were so raw. Harry needed him to be supportive – not to take advantage of the situation and seduce him. Ron would wait until the time was right before testing the waters to see if Harry’s feelings had changed.

Harry and Ron caught each other’s eye and for one brief moment, Ron thought he recognized "the look." But it was fleeting, and he dismissed it as wishful thinking. Harry did seem to have pulled himself together, though, and he promptly turned the tables and started asking Ron about his recent split with Susan.

"Well, mate, it was fairly unpleasant at the end," Ron said. "I didn’t have much time for her, and she started making these unreasonable demands on me."

"Like what?" Harry asked.

"She wanted to see me _every day_ ," he answered, as if that was an outrageous thing to expect of one’s boyfriend. "I’d want to go off and do something fun, and she’d get all huffy."

"You could have asked her along, couldn’t you?"

Ron shook his head. "You see, that was the problem. I didn’t really want to spend time with her anymore. The whole girlfriend thing just wasn’t working for me." Ron stopped himself from adding, _She’s not you._

Harry surveyed Ron quizzically. "So, it’s not like you found another girl who is more interesting…"

Ron didn’t know how to respond. Until today, he’d have definitely responded that there was no one else, but after seeing Harry, that was no longer true.

"Harry, this might come as a bit of a shock," Ron said slowly, "but I think I’m ready to admit that I’m probably gay."

A broad smile spread across Harry’s face. "I knew it."

Across the lake, they could see Hagrid’s Care of Magical Creatures class letting out.

"We should head back to the castle," said Ron. "I promised to talk to Ginny at lunch."

At the mention of Ginny, Harry hung his head, and he said quietly, "She and I aren’t getting along too well these days." 

They headed towards the castle, still holding hands. Ron wasn’t about to be the first one to let go. He said, "Things did seem a bit tense when I saw you two together at breakfast."

"Ginny thinks I’m crazy," Harry said by way of explanation. "She’s gone out of her way to be a good friend to me these past few weeks, but she just can’t cope when I have one of my meltdowns. It doesn’t really help that her presence seems to make them worse."

Ron furrowed his brow. "Why would that be?"

Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose before answering. "She makes me feel so guilty," he said. Harry stopped walking, dropping Ron’s hand as they faced each other. "Please don’t be angry with me, Ron. I’ve been trying as hard as I can to be fair to her because she’s been so supportive, and it would kill me to know that I’ve hurt her. But I know in my heart I really ought to be breaking up with her." 

Ron’s eyes opened wide in surprise, and he saw Harry’s eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Why?"

Harry bent his head to examine his shoelaces as he said, "Because I’m fairly certain that I’m gay, too."

"Oh," murmured Ron. Then the implication of Harry’s words dawned on him: was he indicating that he still had feelings for Ron? Ron searched Harry’s face, and found Harry’s gaze to be shifty and nervous. He didn’t understand why Harry should be nervous, especially when Ron had made the same admission to him just a few minutes earlier. Unless…

"Ron Weasley!" came a shout from Hagrid. He drew up next to them in about five steps and patted Ron squarely on the back, causing him to stumble a bit. "Surprised to see you in our neck o’ the woods!" 

The three of them resumed their trek to the castle as Ron made light of the reason for his visit. It was great to see Hagrid, of course, but his timing couldn’t have been worse. Ron was anxious to find out if Harry’s admission meant that there was a possibility for them to get back together. Once they reached the Great Hall, throngs of students surrounded them, and there was no way their conversation could continue.

Ginny found them and sat down on Ron’s other side, away from Harry. She gave her brother a squeeze and started in on a synopsis of that morning’s Transfiguration lesson. Ron was grateful that he didn’t have to go through another year of Professor McGonagall’s tedious lectures. Harry didn’t seem to be listening to a single word Ginny was saying.

Harry took a bite of his sandwich and hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Oh no – I’ve forgotten that I’m supposed to meet with Snape to get the Potions homework before his afternoon class." He stood abruptly and gathered his sandwich and an apple. "Meet me in the common room, okay, Ron? Ginny can give you the password."

Ron agreed, and Harry took off through the hall. He looked at his sister, who just shook her head in amazement.

"He’s been like this for four weeks," clucked Ginny with irritation. "He’d forget to breathe if left to his own devices."

"Why are you so angry with him?" asked Ron. "It’s not like you to go around badmouthing people, especially not your own boyfriend."

At the word ‘boyfriend,’ Ron noticed Ginny bristle a bit. She let out a long sigh and said, "I’m not angry as such, just frustrated. We weren’t getting along that well before the… well, did he tell you what happened?"

"Yes."

"Right," continued Ginny. "It’s just that he’s been so hard to be around, and now that he keeps bursting uncontrollably into tears at inopportune moments…" Her explanation trailed off, and she took another bite.

Ron held back a smile. "Are you saying you want to break up with him, Gin?"

Ginny said nothing for a moment. He knew he’d guessed correctly and it was taking all of his effort not to whoop with glee.

"Do you think that makes me a terrible person?" she asked. "What kind of a girl would want to break up with her boyfriend when he’s going through a huge emotional crisis?"

Ron gently laid his hand on her shoulder. "A girl who knows that the boy she’s had a crush on since she was ten is not the boy she’s currently dating. Ginny, we all know how much he’s changed. You can’t be faulted for not wanting to be with him." The trick, thought Ron, would be to make breaking up seem like her idea. Then she couldn’t be upset with him when he moved in on Harry himself.

"I could never do that," said Ginny. "He’s going through so much, and he doesn’t need to add me to his troubles. Anyway, I’m not going to abandon him now."

Dammit! thought Ron. It was time for a new tactic. "Look, Ginny," said Ron, mustering his best innocent expression, "I know it isn’t any of my business, but Harry and I were talking this morning—"

"About me?"

"No, about him, mostly. And I think it might be important for you to know something he said to me." Ginny turned her head to lock eyes with him, while Ron leaned closer to her. "He thinks he might be gay," he whispered.

The fork Ginny had been holding dropped to her plate with a clatter. She closed her eyes, oblivious to the stares of her classmates. 

"It can’t be a total surprise, Gin. You knew all along there was a possibility."

"Yes, of course I did, but I thought he was over that," she said quietly to Ron.

They ate silently while the others at the table resumed their conversations. Ron leaned towards Ginny again and whispered, "Were you shagging him?" Ron knew he shouldn’t have asked, but he couldn’t help himself.

Ginny looked aghast. "There’s no way I’m telling you that!"

"Come on, I told you about me."

"You did not," Ginny laughed. "I almost walked in on you. You had no intention of ever telling me." Ron could give no response to that, seeing as she was absolutely correct.

They sat in silence a while longer, until Ginny said, "No."

"What do you mean ‘no’?"

"We never did." Ginny looked at her food and pushed it aside. Ron could see that she was visibly upset.

"You shouldn’t feel bad, you know. Harry practically bent over backwards trying to convince me of how wonderful you’d been about everything and how much he appreciates you. Trust me, he feels just as guilty about wanting to break up with you as you do about wanting to break up with him." Ron shook his head. "You two are just going to have to be honest with each other for a change."

Ginny brooded while Ron finished his meal. He was used to her moodiness and was completely unfazed by it, but he did feel really bad for her. Her fantasy relationship with Harry had crashed all around her, and there wasn’t anything she could do to save it. While Ginny gathered up her things, Ron said, "I’m sorry about all this, you know."

Ginny looked as if she was going to quip something nasty at him, but she stopped herself, knowing that Ron, of all people, _did_ know how she felt. It was terribly disappointing, but at the same time, almost a relief. She leaned over to hug Ron instead, and whispered the password to Gryffindor Tower into his ear. "Thanks," she said, and left in a flurry of black robes.

Ron couldn’t believe his good fortune. He would never have told Ginny about Harry’s admission if she hadn’t already confessed that she wanted to end her relationship with him. And if Harry had expressly sworn him to secrecy, he’d have kept his mouth shut. But, he rationalized, they were both clearly miserable, and hadn’t Dumbledore asked him to come here to cheer them all up?

Ron had no sooner thought of Dumbledore than the Headmaster himself strolled into the Great Hall. Upon seeing Ron, he motioned him over to the staff table, where only two other teachers remained.

"I’m so pleased you could join us, Ron. You’ve seen Harry, then?" Dumbledore asked politely. It amused Ron to note that while he hadn’t really been given a choice in the matter, it was gracious of Dumbledore to let him think he did.

"Yes, sir. It sounds as if he’s had a difficult few weeks."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Harry has endured more hardship than any other wizard I’ve ever known. But I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him more despondent than he’s been these past four weeks. I don’t know what has been more difficult for him: mourning all the people that have been taken from him, or mourning the loss of something he held so dear but let slip away."

Ron stared at Professor Dumbledore, uncertain of his meaning. Harry hadn’t let anything slip away; it had been snatched away from him by a cruel twist of fate. "I don’t understand what you mean, Professor."

"It seems, Ron, that once again you hold Harry’s fate in your hands. For you alone possess the ability to heal him. The power is yours if you’ll only use it." 

Dumbledore dove into his lunch with no further explanation. Ron was perplexed. What the hell did he mean? I have the power to heal him? The old codger never ceased to be obtuse. It did seem like he might be in a generous mood, though, so Ron thought he’d give his latest plan a try.

"Professor Dumbledore, do you suppose you could give Harry permission to go into Hogsmeade with me? I think it would do him a world of good to get away from here for a while, and I’d have him back well before curfew." Ron wore his sincere expression – the one that usually worked with his mum.

Stoking his beard lightly, Dumbledore considered Ron’s request. Finally he said, "My first concern is, as always, for Harry’s safety." Ron started to protest, before Dumbledore continued, "Of course, I’m also concerned about his happiness. So I’ll allow it as long as you do not stray from the main roads and make sure to be back by nine o’clock."

Ron grinned and quickly agreed. He was almost giddy as he left Dumbledore to finish his lunch in solitude. He hummed to himself all the way up to Gryffindor Tower.

* * * * *

During the twenty minutes he’d been waiting for Harry, Ron had thoroughly convinced himself that Harry’s comments that morning had been hints that he wanted to get back together with Ron. The idea lightened Ron’s heart considerably, and he was in a very good mood. Ron heard the portrait open, and a few seconds later, Harry plopped down on the couch beside him. Ron could see that he was red around the eyes.

"Snape is such a sick bastard," sulked Harry. 

It didn’t take a genius to surmise that Snape had reduced Harry to tears, and given Harry’s fragile emotional state, it had probably only taken one of his practiced glares. Ron watched him with longing. Harry’s eyes were closed, and his head was thrown back against the couch, exposing his neck in the most tantalizing manner. Ron exercised uncharacteristic restraint, choosing to rest his hand on Harry’s arm.

"Don’t worry about it," said Ron comfortingly. "No one cares what he thinks anyway."

"I know. But I still feel like such an idiot."

Ron stood up, knowing that if he spent any more time next to Harry on the couch, he’d be unable to control himself. "I’ve got some news that will cheer you up. Dumbledore is letting me take you into Hogsmeade."

Harry sat up smiling. "Really? That’s brilliant. How’d you get him to agree to that?"

Ron grinned, "It must have been my good looks and natural charm." 

Harry laughed. They went up to Harry’s dormitory so that Harry could put his homework away and change clothes. Ron’s mouth went dry as Harry nonchalantly whipped his shirt off over his head. Every memory he had of touching Harry’s bare skin came flooding into his brain, and he fought back a whimper. Ron was not doing a very good job of hiding his desire; Harry noticed him staring.

"What are you looking at?" he said with amusement.

"I…er," Ron’s eyes landed on the Tyet of Isis hanging around Harry’s neck, so he quickly said, "I’m just surprised that you’re still wearing the amulet I gave you."

Harry smiled at Ron, as if he knew full well the effect it would have on him. He put his hand up to the charm, saying, "I like it. It reminds me of when I was happy." 

He closed in on Ron, who could barely stand owing to the fact that all his blood had pooled in his groin. Harry’s eyes were clouded with lust, reminding Ron so much of the boy who had seduced him nearly a year ago; it was as if nothing had ever changed between them. Ron reached out to touch the bare skin of Harry’s waist, and lost himself in those eyes.

"Harry, I—" Ron didn’t get the opportunity to finish his sentence, however, because Harry’s lips captured his, and all rational thought left his brain. Harry moaned as Ron shifted, rubbing himself against Harry’s hip. Their tongues danced, reacquainting themselves after six months’ absence. They groped one another until their need for air caused them to break the kiss.

"Fireworks," panted Ron. "Definitely fireworks."

Harry led Ron over to his four-poster and lightheartedly pushed him into a reclining position. 

"Not just fireworks," growled Harry. "Weasley’s Wild-Fire Whiz Bangs that never go out and keep changing into something better." Harry lowered himself onto Ron, who could feel Harry’s cock straining against the taut material of his trousers.

As Harry fumbled with the buttons on Ron’s shirt, Ron’s gaze fell briefly on Harry’s alarm clock. "How much time before the others are done with classes?"

Harry quickly checked the time. "Shit, only about fifteen or twenty minutes." 

He let go of Ron’s shirt and immediately went for his jeans instead. Ron was helpless to stop Harry from taking his entire length into his mouth. He whispered Harry’s name breathlessly, unable to distinguish whether this was really happening, or if he’d fallen asleep and was dreaming his favorite fantasy. Harry’s hand was lightly caressing his balls, and then a gentle squeeze…

"I can’t stop it, Harry," moaned Ron. Harry sucked harder and Ron dissolved into wave after wave of convulsions. Harry crawled up to kiss him, allowing Ron to taste his own essence as he devoured Harry’s mouth.

Ron knew he didn’t have much time to spare for recovery, so he unzipped Harry’s trousers as they kissed; he was thrilled to feel such convincing evidence of Harry’s arousal.

Ron wondered if Harry still liked it when he talked dirty to him. "Harry, do you have any idea how much I’ve missed being able to taste every part of you? I want to lick every inch of you and make you moan until you call out my name, begging me for more. I want to slide your cock in my mouth and hear you scream as my lips ride up and down your shaft. I want you to come in my mouth, Harry."

Ron’s words certainly had the desired effect, as Harry’s breathing sped up and his hips started bucking ever so slightly. Ron then followed up his words with action, moving his tongue in a circular motion, tasting as much of Harry’s salty flesh as he could reach. He knew he didn’t have much time so instead of lingering to tease Harry’s nipples, he worried them with his fingers instead, while his mouth sought out Harry’s diamond-hard erection. Ron enthusiastically licked and sucked just the way he knew Harry liked it. As requested, Harry moaned indecently, and he called out Ron’s name as he erupted into Ron’s mouth.

Ron looked up to see that Harry had come undone. Tears were streaming down his face, and he was shaking his head back and forth as if he were in agony. It scared the hell out of Ron.

"Harry? Shit. Harry, are you okay?" he asked as he wrapped his arms around his lover and held him gently.

"Yeah," sniffed Harry. "I just _feel_ so much…" He brought his hands up to Ron’s face. "I love you so much, and I never thought I’d be able to tell you."

Ron stroked his hair and kissed his cheek lightly. "I love you too, Harry."

A disturbance from the common room disrupted their afterglow, and they scrambled to dress themselves before anyone discovered what they’d been up to. When Andrew came in a few minutes later, Harry was just tying his trainers, while Ron lounged lazily on the bed watching him. 

"Hey, Ron. I heard you were hanging around today. Did you come up here to give Harry some defense lessons now that you’re a big shot Auror?" Andrew joked.

Ron smirked. "Hardly. I came to kneel at his feet is more like it." Harry burst into laughter as Ron winked at him. "We’re headed into Hogsmeade, actually."

"Geez, Potter, you get all the perks. The rest of us have to hang around the common room on a Friday night."

"Yeah," answered Harry. "All you have to do is go to Hogwarts for an eighth year, and then you get all sorts of benefits: a whole extra year of Snape, for example."

"I guess when you put it that way, it’s definitely not worth it," Andrew said.

They left the dormitory bickering good-naturedly over who should be kneeling at the feet of whom, with Andrew remaining oblivious to their meaning.

* * * * *

Ron and Harry headed back to Hogwarts after a peaceful and romantic dinner at The Three Broomsticks. Harry kept referring to the evening as "their date," and secretly, Ron was pleased. When he’d arrived at the gates of Hogwarts early that morning, he thought he’d be seeing the strange emotionless Harry that had stayed at The Burrow last summer. He’d had no idea that _his_ Harry, the one who made him go weak in the knees every time he smiled, would come back into his life. If only he could wake up tomorrow morning naked in Harry’s arms, Ron would be the happiest wizard in the world. As it was, he was flying high.

Harry looked in the window of the Hogs Head Inn as they passed by, and he saw Hagrid sitting near the tiny window. They decided to stop to chat with him since they still had close to an hour before they needed to be back.

"Harry! Ron! Come on over and join me for a drink," called Hagrid, a little too loudly. Most of the patrons turned to see who had arrived, and more than one murmured to their companion that it was indeed ‘Harry Potter.’ They sat next to Hagrid as inconspicuously as possible.

"Gee, Hagrid, do you think you could have said our names a little bit louder?" hissed Ron. "I think there are a couple of people in the back who didn’t hear you." Harry grinned and Hagrid looked sheepish.

"Huh? Oh, sorry. Well, no one in here pays much attention to me anyhow," Hagrid said in a much more subdued voice.

They had a quick butterbeer with Hagrid, and then headed out again, anxious to get back to the castle and, with any luck, to the Room of Requirement. They had spent the last few hours being reacquainted with each other’s lives, but now they needed a reunion of their bodies.

They had just reached the last shop on the main street when Harry leaned close to Ron and whispered, "Ron, don’t turn around, but there are two men following us."

"How do you know they’re following us?"

"I saw them staring at us in the Hogs Head. I think I recognize one of them from the final battle with Voldemort."

"You think they’re Death Eaters?"

"Yeah." They continued to walk at a steady pace so as not to alert the Death Eaters that they’d been observed.

"Shit." Adrenaline coursed through Ron’s veins. He’d been working hard at Auror School, and he quickly reviewed everything that he’d learned about defense during the past two months. "Harry, how are your defense skills?"

"A bit rusty, probably, but they used to be really good. Do you think we should try to take them on?"

"Not yet. We don’t know how many there are." Damn, thought Ron, we’re too far from both the pub and Hogwarts to make a run for it in either direction.

"Maybe we could Apparate to the Hogwarts main gates." Harry’s voice was rising with apprehension. Though he’d always been cool under pressure, Harry wasn’t exactly his most emotionally stable self. It was going to up to Ron to remain calm, something that didn’t come naturally to him, but he had been working hard to improve it at Auror school.

"I don’t know, Harry. Seems to me that if they’ve sent someone to follow us, they’ll have also stationed someone to intercept us at the main gates in case we do that. Besides, they’ve probably cast an anti-Apparition spell around us by now."

They walked on a little further, not speaking until Ron whispered, "Dammit. Two more."

"Where?"

"Up there, crouching behind those bushes. You can’t see them, but look at their shadows in the moonlight."

Though neither Ron nor Harry would voice it, full-scale panic had set in. Ron had not been involved in a serious duel since they were ambushed by Death Eaters at the Department of Mysteries near the end of their fifth year. Harry looked as if he might break down at any minute. "You okay, mate?"

"I don’t want to do this, Ron," said Harry with a shaky voice. "I thought it was over when Voldemort was killed. What if I’m not lucky like the last time?" He grabbed Ron’s sleeve.

Harry’s words triggered a strategy in Ron’s brain. Harry hadn’t just been lucky the last time; he’d had Isis. Ron wasn’t the best dueler in his Auror class, but he was the smartest, and his strategic mind kicked into high gear just when he needed it the most.

"Listen, Harry, I have a plan. Are you still wearing the Tyet of Isis?"

"Yes, of course." Harry felt for it with his hand just to be sure.

"Good. Then as soon as one of these wizards throws a hex at you, I want you to call out to Isis."

Harry stopped walking, his head snapping to look at Ron’s face. "Ron, no. What good will that do? What if they hit you?"

"I think I’ll probably collapse as soon as you invoke her. I’ll pretend to fall, at least. They’ll think they hit me with the curse. You’ll be protected and can pick them off one at a time."

"God, no, Ron. It’s too dangerous. What if you get hurt?"

Ron stared deeply into Harry’s eyes with an intensity of love that he had never shown him before. "You’ve got to trust me on this. You’ve got to trust in us."

The words had barely escaped from his mouth when the Death Eaters behind them announced their presence. The two others that had been crouched in the bushes stood up, and two more cloaked figures appeared in a clearing off to their left. It was six-against-two. Their only realistic option was Ron’s plan.

A Death Eater behind them spoke. "It’s no use, Potter. Though you managed to kill the Dark Lord, there are many of his supporters left behind to take his place. We can’t have you interfering."

In the split second it took for the Death Eater to raise his wand, Harry and Ron exchanged nods. The hex flew, and as planned, Ron collapsed on the ground as the curse careened off Harry’s now protected form. 

_I told you it would work_ , thought Ron to Harry. Harry did not look at him, but Ron saw a smile edge up at the corners of his mouth. _Now pick them off one by one, love. Start with that ugly one first._

Ron focused all of his love on Harry, just as he had done last spring. Harry seemed to have regained all of his confidence, because he threw curses at the Death Eaters like a madman. The Death Eaters that weren’t hit began to close in on them, and Harry was still able to fend them off. Ron heard Harry shout " _Stupify_ " just as three curses hit Harry at the same time. Ron’s world went dark.

* * * * *

Ron opened his eyes, and the walls around him slowly came into focus. It took him a few minutes to realize he was in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. He stirred and was immediately greeted by two bright green eyes staring at him from six inches away.

"What’s your name?" Ron demanded.

"Huh?" asked Harry.

"Tell me what your name is."

"H…Harry Potter. Ron, are you all right?" Harry’s face was worn with concern, but other than that, Ron could see no signs of injury.

Ron smiled. He tried to sit up, but was afraid he might vomit, so he sank back down on the pillow. "I’ll be okay. It’s just that last time we did this, I woke up to find you’d lost your memory, and to be honest, Harry, it wasn’t really that much fun." He tried to laugh, but winced at the pain in his head.

Harry affectionately touched Ron’s cheek. "Git."

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Thanks to you, I survived _Avada Kedavra_ for the third time. Seems to have taken its toll on you, though."

Ron grinned weakly. "That’s my job, you know. I’m just here to save your sorry arse."

"Well if somebody’s got to do it, I’m glad it’s you. Thanks, mate." Harry brushed his fingertips along Ron’s cheeks and through his hair. "Does it hurt when I do this?" he asked.

"No. Feels nice." Ron closed his eyes while Harry caressed his forehead. When he opened them again, silent tears were flowing down Harry’s cheeks. "You know, Harry, if you don’t get a grip on yourself soon, I’m going to have to start calling you ‘Cho." He grinned, and Harry smiled, which seemed to make the tears flow even faster.

Madam Pomfrey wandered over, and upon seeing that Ron was awake, gave him a potion. It must have been a sleeping draught, because after a few minutes, Ron could hardly keep his eyes open.

"Harry?" he asked with a yawn. "That wasn’t a very fun date, was it?"

Harry brushed his thumb across Ron’s lips. "Maybe not, but our next one will be better. Look, Ron, I’m going up to Gryffindor Tower to take care of a few things. I’ll come back first thing in the morning, all right?"

"Mmmmm, love you," murmured Ron. He fell into a deep sleep before Harry’s lips met his.

* * * * *

"I thought you were going to be here first thing in the morning," complained Ron as Harry strolled into the hospital wing.

Harry grinned. He looked completely different today. Harry carried himself with confidence, and he seemed as if he were on top of the world. He tossed the _Daily Prophet_ at Ron and sat down next to him on the bed.

"Aren’t you the cheerful one this morning," Harry said sarcastically. "One might think _you’d_ been attacked by six Death Eaters last night instead of me." Harry watched as Ron unfolded the newspaper and read the headline.

**SIX DEATH EATERS NO MATCH FOR HARRY POTTER**

Ron looked up from the paper, expecting to see Harry livid from all the unwanted attention. Instead, Harry was beaming. "What are you so happy about?" asked Ron. "You used to hate these articles."

"Keep reading."

Ron quickly scanned the article, slowing down at the part where they interviewed Harry. Ron caught Harry’s eye as if to confirm that such an interview had taken place, and Harry nodded. The next part was incredible. Harry had given Ron credit for coming up with an emergency strategy, drawing on his Auror training, and described him as "allowing himself to be injured, in order to increase our chances of survival." Ron was quite chuffed when he read Harry’s quote, "If it weren’t for Ron Weasley, I’d be dead."

"The most remarkable thing," said Harry calmly, "is that the _Daily Prophet_ actually managed to get my quotes correct. One time out of a thousand isn’t too bad, is it?"

Ron sat up. He was a bit weak, but no longer dizzy or nauseous. He pulled Harry close and wrapped his arms around him. "You’re amazing. Is it any wonder I’m crazy about you?"

They kissed a few times, until Harry broke away reluctantly. "One of the things I did last night after I left here was talk to Ginny. We agreed that we’re better as friends than as a couple. I offered to let her break up with me loudly in the library, but she seems to want to keep things low key. Then this morning when I woke up, I felt like a whole new person: a normal person. Because I remembered what you said last night before you fell asleep."

"Glad one of us does," snorted Ron.

Harry smiled, but ignored his comment. "You said you loved me. And you saved my life in more ways than you ever know. I can’t even begin to thank you for that."

Ron smirked, "I can think of a few ways that you could show me some gratitude."

"I intend to, Ron. I’ve definitely got plans for you. Do you suppose you’ll be able to convince Madam Pomfrey to let you out this morning if you promise to spend the rest of the day in bed?" Harry asked, grinning.

Ron stood on shaky feet, leaning on Harry for balance. "It’s worth a try. You could say that I’m highly motivated." Ron turned suddenly to examine Harry’s face. "Hey, Harry, you know what?"

"What?"

"You just got through saying all sorts of sappy stuff, and you didn’t even cry once. I reckon you’re on the road to recovery now."

Harry laughed. "That’s right, so don’t even think of calling me ‘Cho.’ I have an amulet, and I’m not afraid to use it."

"You’re such a tough guy when you aren’t crying," teased Ron.

Harry pulled away to leave. "I’m going to get Madam Pomfrey so we can get you out of here. I think I need to get on with teaching you a lesson." Ron watched his retreating back, wondering if he’d ever get used to the excitement that Harry made him feel. He hoped not.

Twenty minutes later, they walked hand-in-hand through the hallway on their way to the Room of Requirement, oblivious to the stares of the students they passed. Together, Harry and Ron had accomplished the near impossible: Ron had saved Harry, Harry had saved the wizarding world, and the wizarding world would never know the whole story. But they knew, and in the end, that was all that mattered.

 

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finis

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**Author's Notes:**  That's it folks, the story is over. However, I know that I'm going to get loads of comments asking to know what happened in the Room of Requirement. Therefore, to save you all time, I've written a ficlet of the PWP variety that might satisfy your curiosity. It's NC-17 and it's Harry and Ron in the [Room of Requirement](http://www.geocities.com/magicofisis/RoomofRequirement.html). Enjoy!

 

You've just invested quite a bit of time reading this story. Please take one more minute to comment or review. I will be eternally grateful if you do. Concrit is welcome; so is lavish praise. 


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